


We Found Each Other, Now Hold On Tight.

by ambersagen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Is A Werewolf, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, BAMF Stiles, Bad Parent Sheriff Stilinski, Derek is a Failwolf, Emotionally Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Eventual Sugar Daddy, F/M, Found Family, Foursome, Good Alpha Peter, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Idk if Peter is gonna do the do in this but im keeping my options open, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Mates, Multi, No Underage Sex, Not Allison friendly, Pack Dynamics, Polyamory, Scent Marking, Scenting, Scott is not a good friend, Sick Stiles Stilinski, Some characters get nicer some get worse, Stiles and Scott breakup, Sugar Daddy Peter Hale, The Hale Pack - Freeform, Threesome - F/M/M, Wolf Instincts, broken bonds, its more about building a family out of revenge and spite, not Scott friendly, not much sex in this at all actually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2019-07-19 00:15:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 39,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16129610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambersagen/pseuds/ambersagen
Summary: None of this made any sense! The pain in his chest was becoming a very urgent, very much physical burn that rapidly became all Stiles could focus on. His bond. His mating bond. Oh god.“I…” His voice felt like it had been stolen by a dementor it was so quiet. “I think I need to see the nurse now.”-Updates Generally Once a Week As Serotonin Becomes Available for Use





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first Teen Wolf fic. I was in a bad place and decided fuck it, im gonna go way back and write a fucking teen wolf fic with music lyrics and pretend like its 2012 again. It worked. It got me writing again. 
> 
> Please be kind!

_ And my head told my heart _

_ Let love grow _

_ But my heart told my head _

_ This time no _

 

_ This time no _

_                         -Winter Winds _

 

_ \--------- _

 

High school, in Stile’s opinion, is a conspiracy created by right wing fanatics hell-bent on using physical and mental torture to mold young minds into hormonal sheep people who would never have the reading level needed to even consider filling out a voter registration form. Either that or the government was putting something in the cafeteria pizza to see if it was possible to alter brain waves enough that people cared more about whether Danny was actually gay or just more hygienic than his peers instead of worrying about important things like passing chemistry. 

Of course, some people rose above the common folk  — saving their IQ and their bowels by avoiding cafeteria food altogether. 

“Earth to Stilinski!” Jackson’s dulcet growl cut through Stiles’ increasingly elaborate theories on the stupidity of the average american teenager. “Close your mouth and wipe up the drool,” Jackson’s face was crinkled in totally fake and perfectly posed disgust. Stiles knew he wasn’t actually drooling. Probably.

“Coach wanted everyone to know practice is canceled today on account of his bunion surgery.” Both Stiles and Jackson shuddered in unison, deeply disturbed. “Tell your boyfriend. I’ve got better things to do than hunt you idiots down.”

Usually Stiles would take offence at being relegated to messenger boy, especially when it was already so satisfying that coach had made Jackson do the same thing, but it was a fact of life that where Stiles was, Scott would be soon. And vice versa. 

The pair had met in kindergarten and had scent bonded immediately, as close to a real life example of true mates as anyone had ever seen, until Lydia and Jackson met in first grade and bonded before they had even introduced themselves. The couples had been rivals ever sense. Or at least Stiles and Jackson had been rivals with Lydia and Scott mostly indifferent but supportive partners. Stiles wasn’t complaining though. Everyone needed a hobby and Beacon Hill was frustratingly boring for a healthy teen like himself.

There was a disapproving sniff from behind him, and Stiles was not even a little surprised when Lydia arrived, dropping her books into Jackson’s arms without even looking at him. Stiles smirked when Jackson didn't even fumble. He was so whipped, Lydia had him well trained. 

“I’m guessing you’re better things?” he snarked at her, unsurprised again when she completely ignored his remark. Burn. It was such a good set up too. 

“Stiles I need your bio notes,” she said, reaching over to help herself to the contents of his locker.

“What’s wrong with your own notes?” he asked, trying to close it against her and getting his hand slapped for his effort. As much as he loved to spar verbally with Lydia there were unspeakable evils in the depth of his locker that only the undisturbed pile of crap kept buried. He was pretty sure there was a bagged lunch from four months ago in there somewhere and he really would rather Lydia didn't stick her hand in it and disturb its slumber. “Finally ready to bow down before my superior brain?” He dodged to the left, trying to pull the binder out before she could dig deeper, but got a mouthful of hair flipped in his face for his troubles.

“Watch it Stilinski,” Jackson growled. “Just because we don’t have practice today doesn’t mean I’m not ready to kick your ass.”

“Stiles!”

Stiles turned from Jackson with a sneer as Scott came running, no- bouncing up to them, a totally dopey look on his face. A seriously dopey look on his face. Epic dopey with a side of floating on air. Air raid sirens started going off in the back of Stiles’ mind as Scott skidded to a halt and _smiled_ —Fucking smiled—At Jackson and Lydia. 

Jeeeesus.

Last time Scott had been this happy-high the day had ended in epic tears and heartbreak over a whole box of kittens that both of  their parents were adamant could Not stay with them. 

“I found my mate!” Scott practically screeched in Stiles’ face, barely able to get the words out around his grin.

‘Yeaaaaaaaah?” Stiles rubbed at his ears, manfully ignoring the serious judgy faces the other two were giving them. “Dude, I can see that. Good job sniffing me out, Mr. Bloodhound, I’m standing right here.”

Scott snorted, playfully shoving his shoulder. “Dude. I’m serious. I found my mate! You know that Alison girl? The one who just moved here last week?” Stiles felt his face twitching in confusion, and a quick glance at Lydia and Jackson showed that even Hell’s Power Couple were baffled. 

“Scott what — ”

“I know!” Scott was in full happy puppy mode. “I can’t believe it either but she was in math today, placement tests or something, and the only open seat in class was next to me. Next thing I know she’s asking if I have a pencil she can borrow and there’s this amazing scent in my nose and Stiles, I asked her after class if she wanted to see a movie with me and she said yes! She’s my mate, I just know it, the way she smiled at me and when we kissed — ”

Kiss? Allison was his mate? His Scott kissed some girl?

There was a roaring in Stiles’ ears. He wanted to — fuck if he knew — move, just move or something. He wanted to leave, to cover his ears, to close his eyes against that dreamy look in Scott’s, but he was frozen with nothing but a sharp pain in his heart to assure him that he was indeed still alive. 

“I’m your mate.” 

Was that his voice? If he had any control over himself Stiles would have been mortified by how squeeky he sounded. 

“Scott — No.  _ No _ Scottie. We are mates. You and me. Since kindergarten — ”

Scott laughed. He actually laughed, leaning in to bump his shoulder against Stiles and sending a wave of nausea through him. This couldn't be real. 

“Yeah yeah, best friends forever bro — but this is serious! I haven’t felt it yet but I'm betting Alison and I get the first feel of our mating bond before the movie even starts.”

A shocked flinch went through Stiles like a wave. Distantly he felt it reverberate next to him, and there was a furious snarl from behind him.

“What the fuck are you on McCall? Your  _ mate _ is standing right here. What fucking bond do you think some girl will be able to make with an idiot like you?” 

Jackson sounded pissed, and Scott was bickering with him now, something about homophobic jokes not being funny anymore and a bunch of other things that didn’t make any sense — None of this made any sense! The pain in his chest was becoming a very urgent, very much physical burn that rapidly became all Stiles could focus on. His bond. His mating bond.  _ Oh god. _

“I…” His voice felt like it had been stolen by a dementor it was so quiet. “I think I need to see the nurse now.”

“Hospital.’Lydia said firmly, the steel in her voice shocking even Scott, who seemed to finally be catching on that no one was reacting happily to his news. 

In a daze Stiles found himself frog marched down the hall, Jackson on one side and Lydia on the other. Both had firm grips on his arm, and while he would usually protest at being manhandled this way his brain was try to replace the real world with this weird, wailing crying sound.

It was an anxious, pathetic nose, like a crying puppy. He wished it would stop so he could focus on walking himself to the parking lot, but the stupid sound was getting closer. He could feel it bussing through him and after a few slow blinks he realize it was coming from him. Lydia’s radiant face drifted in and out as he fought down the pathetic animal in him that was crying for its mate, his Scott, wondering and whining at his absence.

He must have made it to the car at some point because the first thing he was solidly aware of was Jackson actually lifting him out of a vehicle and into a bridal carry while Lydia called out to the nurse at the desk about ‘Mate Shock’ and ‘get a doctor right fucking now’. 

Stiles had never felt so pathetic in his life. 

There were a few frantic moments while the hospital staff grabbed a gurnie and Lydia gave what Stiles could only imagine was a perfectly detailed but succinct summary of their issue before the three of them were hustled off to a private room. Apparently being a minor in Mate Shock and the son of the sheriff had its benefits, such as they were. His humiliation could finally be wrapped up somewhat privately now if he ignored the fact that the hospital was a cesspool of gossip and broken doctor patient confidentiality clauses. 

“-nski. Mr. Stilinski, are you with us?”

Something cold and metallic touched his chest, forcing his thoughts back on the situation at hand. 

“Yeah doc, I think so.” A nurse was getting his blood pressure now and didn’t seem at all happy with the results. That wasn’t surprising, considering the yawning abyss that seemed to have taken residence where his heart should be. He shivered. “So what’s the prognosis? Am I gonna live?”

“All signs point to yes,” the nurse drawled, but their scent was sour with worry. “Let’s get you set up before we start canceling that life insurance policy, alright?”

Stiles waved vaguely in acquiescence and one tricky maneuver later and he was settled in with minimal swooning and vitals all checked. He was surprised when the nurses were replaced with the presence of Lydia and Jackson, neither of whom seemed inclined to leave any time soon. He was too wiped to question it though and they barely had a moment before their surprisingly not uncomfortable silence was broken by a knock on the door.

The doctor hustled into the room, tablet in one had, chart in the other, and a concerned pinch to his eyes. “Mr. Stilinski,” he said, setting the chart down and reaching over to shake Stile’s hand. “I’m Doctor Morris and I have to say, we are very glad your friends were so prompt in getting you here to us for treatment.” He picked up the chart again, pulling up a chair to the bed and waiting for Stiles nod before checking the boy’s pulse. “I have to admit, you’re the first patient we’ve had in years with a legitimate case of Mate Shock. Catching it as fast as you did has probably saved you a world of pain.” he frowned, adding a few notes to the chart before palpating Stiles neck and chest. “Mate Shock is serious, as you can no doubt feel. My immediate concern is keeping you stable and calm, preferably with as many people around to distract you as possible. I will order pheromone therapy, which will mean a nasal cannula for you but nothing much worse than that yet, and I would recommend getting in contact with as many friends and family as you can get here to help build up some good old fashioned pheromones to muddle your inner wolf. Your friends have done a marvelous job keeping you aware so far,” he said with a pleased smile for Lydia and Jackson, “And we are currently getting in contact with your father. If your friends are able and willing to stay we will eventually need parental permission signed for them. I understand they may have other obligations however, so rest assured we are doing our best to get ahold of your father.”

“We’ll stay, I’ll call our parents and get you whatever you need as soon as possible,” Jackson said, a quick nod from Lydia confirming. “What else can you do for him? We tried to keep him insulated but he was still in and out of it on the way here.”

Stiles was a little blown away by this strange, caring turn of events, but he gave an affirmative nod when the doctor gave him a questioning look. “It’s fine if they know what’s happening. I didn’t like drifting like that any more than they did.”

The doctor sighed, but seemed relieved to have willing help. “Unfortunately we will need to administer some heavy hormones to combat the Mate Shock for the first seventy two hours, and until we can get ahold of your father and get his go ahead we won't be able to start treatment.” He held up a hand at twin growls from Lydia and Jackson. “Now not to worry. So far you haven’t had any of the serious complications. No suicidal thoughts or extreme temperature changes, and the pain we can treat fully with no signature needed.”

Stiles sighed, leaning back into the stiff sheets and closing his eyes. “So it’s just a waiting game then.”

“Essentially. We wait to hear from your father, and we wait to see what symptoms will eventually arise.” The doctor stood, giving them all a firm nod. “I’ll send a nurse with the parental approval papers in a bit. We’ll let you know as soon as we get ahold of the sheriff. Your job is to tell the nurses if anything changes. I’m serious,” he wagged the chart at Stiles. “Don’t tough it out if you feel any new pain or discomfort. We can help, and your long term health depends on keeping you calm and comfortable now.” 

“We’ll watch him,” Lydia promised, determination in the warning glare she sent Stiles when he snorted a little

“I’ll be back in a few hours then to check on you.” The doctor gave Stiles another handshake before heading out, leaving the teens in quiet thought.

Lydia and Jackson settled into the room while Stiles stared up at the ceiling. No one said a word but the pair must have still been focusing on projecting their pheremones because the sterile smell of the room was slowly being replaced by determined calm and the slightest floral scent of Lydia’s perfume. Stiles swallowed tightly, a sharp sting at the corner of his eyes starting as he took a moment to fully admit to what his life had suddenly become.

“I just...I’m so stupid. Was it really a joke to him this whole time?”

Lydia made a rude sound that from anyone less majestic would have been described as a snort. “Stiles, the only couple in this school more iconic than Jackson and me are you and Scott. The pair of you have been a poster-child perfect example of mates since  _ kindergarten _ . So much so that Jackson and I have very rarely, on occasion, thought you might someday give us a run for our position as Beacon High’s most perfect couple. That was never because of Scott, boyish charm or no. That’s always been because of you. Anyone with eyes could see  **_you_ ** were the heart of the mating, and Jackson and I never imagined Scott when we roll played kinky hate sex with you.”

Wow. Holy crap.

Stiles wanted to pinch himself because seriously, this was looking more and more like some crazy, toxic burrito induced acid trip of a dream.

He bit his tongue. It hurt a lot. Not a dream then. 

“Umm,” he shook his head slowly, grimacing as he felt a wave of dizziness rising. The room was strong with the combined soothing scents Jackson and Lydia were working to project, but even so Stiles could feel the shakes returning. 

“Sorry, I’m just — I don’t feel so good.” He lay back against the bed, giving Jackson a thankful but probably bewildered smile when he did something with the controls to lower the bed into a more comfortable recline. 

“Sorry,” he said again. “This is just a lot to take in?” he ran a shaking and over his face. Lydia nudged him and he thankfully took another cup of water. “Jesus, really though. What alternate reality have I slipped into? Dumped by my mate after over ten years of what turns out was a fake relationship and not a soulmate situation, now I’m being offered a threesome by the hottest couple in California?” Jackson smirked at that, but Lydia only rolled her eyes in what Stiles liked to imagine was fondness. “Seriously! If I didn’t feel like jumping off a bridge or barfing I think I would be pouncing on that sweet revenge sex.”

“Well it’s not like there’s an expiration date on that offer,” Lydia sniffed before pulling out her phone. “Besides, you’re going to be stuck here for at least a week, maybe less if we can keep your mind off McCall and your nose full of our pheromones.”

Jackson shifted like he wanted to take Stiles hand, before quickly leaning back with his arms folded. “I doubt even we can do much to cushion a breakup of this magnitude.”

“Stiles?” 

The three teens turned at the question to see Melissa McCall, baffled but worried in the doorway. “What on earth is going on? Bess said you had been admitted for Mate Shock? They called your father but he — we thought the hospital fucked up.” She took a tentative step into the room, eyeing Jackson and Lydia even as her nose took in the bitter pheromones Stiles was already pouring out. “Honey what happened? Why didn’t you tell the staff to get Scott — ”

“Because Stiles isn’t a moron,” Lydia cut in, ice in her voice. “He checked in because of  _ rejection _ . He has Mate Shock thanks to your son’s practically homicidal self centeredness.”

“Scott found his mate,” Stiles said when Melissa only stared at them, nonplused.

“Stiles, what are you talking about? Did you hit your head?”

“Excuse me,” Lydia  injected with a sharp wave of her hand to cut Melissa off. “Are you on shift? If you aren’t here to help I’m going to insist that you go ask your moronic son all these upsetting questions and stop aggravating Stiles. We’re having a hard enough time keeping him stable as it is.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Jackson said, standing with an exaggerated stretch before leaning over and running his palm and wrist across and under Stiles’ cheek. “Want me to call your dad and convince him the medical professionals know what they’re talking about when they call a parent and tell them to get their ass to the hospital?”

Stiles’ grin was weak but he managed to nod. It was nice to have Jackson’s assholish personality working in his favor for a change. “Please. The sooner he gets here the sooner he can sign off on the good meds.” He didn’t look as Jackson took charge and lead a still stunned Melissa from the room. 

“Why couldn’t he have waited till the weekend to break my fucking heart?” Stiles tried to joke, but the tears were back and his voice wobbled. “It’s so...inconvenient.”

Lydia pulled out her phone. “I know. Now we’re missing class and I may actually have to use that blackmail I have on Harris to force him into letting us make up our work.”

Stiles chuckled, then let out a shocked whine as the pit in his stomach seemed to open wide into a chasm. Damn it. He had been trying so hard to pretend everything was ok, just a casual annoyance. 

He shivered, pulling the stiff hospital blanket up as the icy emptiness reached out from where the mate bond used to be. For the first time he cursed Scott. Even in divorces Mate Shock was rare, due to both partners participating in the rejection and the natural decline of relationships over time. For Scott to rip their bond appart single handedly, with no warning, was practically assault. It hurt so much and he could feel a haze that wasn’t just tears beginning to cloud his vision. 

Somewhere in the fog Lydia was pushing the call button while various machines beeped in warning. He could smell the faint spice of the cologne Jackson wore to stop Lydia’s complaints after lacrosse practice, but he was too far gone to check if the other boy was back. He fainted. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg guys. Your feedback has been so amazing. Im super sorry it took so long to update, I had most of two chapters done before deciding I didnt want to jump ahead in the timeline....and then I got sick while writing the new chapter. Anyway, part of my NaNo writing will be to update this more regularly so I hope you look forward to it!

 

It was officially one of the weirdest days Jackson could ever remember having and it wasn't even lunch time yet. Thank fuck he was adaptable, quick on his feet and a pro at working out new plays on the fly. Nothing would beat Jackson Whittemore, not even if he had to fight every parent in Beacon Hills to get what he needed. 

So far there were two parents in his way and it only served to piss him off. 

He had let go of Mrs. McCall’s arm as soon as they left the hospital room. He wasn’t stupid enough to believe the hospital staff would respect Stiles’ choices and take his side against Mrs. McCall if she insisted on staying. So, he needed to distract and redirect her attention rather than pushing for a confrontation here. Not that it would be hard to take her focus off of Stiles. No one ever seemed to put the stupid boy first, even when he was stuck in the hospital with the possibility of severe, long term medical issues.

Fuck. That was why Stiles pissed him off. Stiles made him so mad sometimes that it was hard to think straight, or to think without using his fists.

Stiles was so confident that he was loved. He believed Scott had his back just because he couldn't fathom not having Scott’s. He believed Scott’s mom thought of him as a son, just because he was around her a lot, though Jackson had never seen the woman do anything concrete for him. He didn’t even do normal mom shit like pick the boys up from school, make lunches, give them enough hugs for her scent to linger, or anything he could see. The McCalls were too busy trying to survive as a one parent household yet Stiles seemed confident in his place with them.

His dad could treat him like shit, working every shift he could and throwing in the occasional secret drinking binge, but Stiles never wavered in his belief that his father loved him more than anything. The shit Jackson heard about the sheriff from his dad and other lawyers from the office just made the rage worse. Why was it that Stiles, who was at the very least undeniably neglected, felt like he was enough? That he never doubted his father's love for him when Jackson, whose father was  _ there  _ for him, wanted him so much he adopted, so much that he was involved in his life, his interests, couldn’t let himself believe he was loved?

Ugh, time to move on before he felt like talking about his feelings. 

“What the hell is going on here?” McCall’s demanding question brought his focus back to the present. Right. Angry and useless parent number one. 

“Who even let you into his room? Don't think you can bully your way into whatever it is you want from him. You’ve always had it out for my kid and I'm not going to let you convince everyone that this is somehow his fault. I’m calling my son and then I’m calling the sheriff to get you removed.” Her voice was embarrassingly loud in the relative peace of the hospital halls. At least her defensive tone left Jackson feeling more confident, justified in having her removed from Stiles’ room. Nobody healed well when getting yelled at, and the pheromones the woman was projecting made even Jackson’s nose, so used to locker room aggression and teenage angst, scrunch in distaste at the sharpness of it.

Jackson rolled his eyes. “You might want to try that again, this time with a little less worry about your son’s reputation and a little more worry about Stiles’ health.”

“Again, who do you think you are to tell me I don’t care about Stiles — “

“Do you even know why your son and I are always fighting?” he stopped, taking a deep breath in through the nose and unclenching his hands. He didn’t want to waste time here and someone seeing a violent, angry teen threatening an off call nurse wouldn’t go down well. So he relaxed his posture and put a smirk on his face because none of that meant he was going to miss this opportunity to give this lady a piece of his mind. “ It’s because he’s a brat.”

“If he told you I hate his guts and that I hate having him around then guess what, he isn’t lying. I get that high school sports are supposed to be fun and not serious or whatever, but I take my job as team captain seriously, and Scott seems to think it’s no big deal to let him play on the team despite his severe asthma and generally shitty hand-eye coordination. So sorry if I don’t really want some dumb ass kid dying on my team because he thinks he’s god's gift to lacrosse and I'm just jealous of him.”

In real life Jackson actually did his best to spend as little time as possible wasting brain cells pondering the mess that was Scott. If it hadn’t been for Lydia encouraging his slow burn for Stiles and his own encouraging of her intellect boner for Stiles then he probably wouldn't even have known Scott’s name before he inserted himself into where he clearly didn’t belong. It was infuriating. And dangerous. 

“So yeah, I hate that he managed to whine and push his way onto our team so now all of us have to babysit him and maybe get scared for life when he croakes on field because his mother is too bad at her job to know her son shouldn’t be playing contact sports when he can’t even go to class without an inhaler.”

Mrs. McCall was gaping at him. Now he knew where Scott got it from. Except she wasn’t Scott, and she looked kind of mad. “I don’t know where the hell you get off talking about my son like that, but I don’t appreciate it-”

“And I don’t appreciate you telling a boy who’s just been admitted to the hospital for Mate Shock that it must have been something he did and not because his former mate is a bond breaking jackass,” Jackson sneered at her, and then caught the eye of the closest nurse doing rounds as she obviously eavesdropped. “Excuse me. Can you let the Chief Nurse know Stiles doesn’t want any more visitors until his dad gets here? I need to go pick him up and I’m worried about Stiles being stressed out while I’m gone. We already spoke to the doctor about getting signed permission to wait with him.”

“Oh, sure,” the nurse shot Mrs. McCall a nervous look. They probably knew each other, and by the looks of it seeing a kid giving her a verbal smack-down was going to be pretty juicy gossip for the staff today. “We already have orders to keep his room as calm and insulated as possible, no worries.”

“Thank you,” he flashed her his most charming smile, confident in the way she gave him a flustered nod and an appreciative sniff of the air before returning to her rounds that she would follow through. He turned to Mrs. McCall one last time.

“Don’t worry about Stiles. He’s in good hands. Worry about your son. Worry about where the hell you went wrong that he didn’t give a single thought to breaking his mating bond and denying it ever existed while lording his new girlfriend over Stiles.” 

He turned, flashing another smile at the nurse on duty, who backed quickly out of his way as he took off down the hall. He had a sheriff to hunt down. Getting that medication signed off on was top priority, getting to maybe yell at Mr. Stilinski would be the icing on the cake. 

He managed not to speed as he drove to the station. It wouldn’t do Stiles any good if he was delayed by getting pulled over, and getting a ticket would hurt the credibility he would need to get the sheriff off his ass and to the hospital.

So it was with careful and deliberate intent that he parked his car, straightened his clothes, and put a concerned but determined look on his face and let some of the tightly controlled stress he was feeling leak into his scent before heading into the lobby.

The receptionist gave him a surprised look, no doubt recognizing him from either seeing him in here with his dad or from lacrosse games, ever popular with the locals. It was obvious he should be in school, so steamrolling her before she could start asking questions would be his best bet here. 

“Hi,” he said, throwing in an appropriately nervous grin. “I’m here to pick up Sheriff Stilinski?”

The receptionist gave him a raised brow, sensing shenanigans. “Sheriff Stilinski hasn’t mentioned anyone coming to give him a ride. He’s on shift right now and has his own car if he did need to go somewhere.”

He let himself deflate a little, dropping his voice into a concerned whisper. Lydia would be so proud of him for playing the game. “Oh, you didn’t hear about Stiles? I know the sheriff said he would be down as soon as possible but Stiles got even worse right after the call and we figured I could come grab the sheriff and give him the update while we drive to the hospital.”

The secretary was frowning, hand already reaching for the phone. “Stiles is in the hospital? I hadn’t heard--”

“He probably forgot. Hell, I practically forgot my keys trying to get out of there fast enough.” 

Hook line and sinker, Jackson kept his mouth turned down and projecting concern, but it was a fight to keep that self satisfied upward tick off his lips as she paged the sheriff. He stepped away from the desk to give her room, but with a small duck of his head declined the seat she gestured him to. He needed to keep things moving if he wanted any chance at bullying this parent into doing their job. 

“Alright Barb, where’s this ‘ride’ person?” Sheriff Stilinski’s exasperated voice berated as the man marched into the lobby, giving the room a distracted sweep with his frown. “I told the hospital Melissa could check Stiles out of whatever shenanigans he’s gotten up to now.”

“No shenanigans, sir,” Jackson stepped forward with a nod, keeping the disgust he could feel building off his face. Seriously, so many  _ stories _ . Stiles was lucky he’s so pretty, because the way the sheriff was looking at Jackson right now made the teen’s stomach churn. “The doctors were having a hard time reaching you and we were worried about Stiles not getting the medication he needs signed off before the, uhh, extreme reaction to his Mate Shock sets in.”

He frowned at Jackson, his judgmental squint obviously struggling to place him. 

“Jackson Whittemore?” He finally said, and Jackson wanted to roll his eyes at the stern father voice that started to creep in as the sheriff got his bearings.

“That’s me. I’m one of the ones who got Stiles to the hospital. He’s really not doing well, sir.”

“And since when do you care about my son? Last I heard you hated his guts and spent all your time pretending to be the big wolf on campus.” As Sheriff he probably was used to putting the fear of god into anyone he talked to, but it wasn’t all that impressive to Jackson, who had seen his own dad tear apart plenty of people who thought they could out argue Beacon County’s top defense lawyer. 

Jackson grinned, but he was furious. This wasn’t important right now. “No pretending, sir. But that doesn’t really matter. Stiles was hurting and needed a doctor as fast as possible, I just did what I could.”

“You’re a bully,” Stilinski said flatly, just staring him down.

“I can be a bully. But what does that say about you, that the kid who bullies your son cares more about his health than you do?” He challenged, refusing to break eye contact with the man. 

“Now wait just a minute-”

“No,” he was aware of the small crowd that had begun to gather when the sheriff started raising his voice but he didn’t care. Every minute spent arguing was a minute that Stiles might get worse. He would damn himself for caring, but it felt too good. Like he could get high off of just how  _ right _ it was. He really did love being right.

“The hospital called you! Medical professionals told you that your kid is in critical condition and that they need you to come down right away to start his treatment, something I find fucked up that they would have to insist on. I have no idea why you wouldn’t want to be there with him no matter how minor it could be, and I don’t know why you think you know better than the fucking doctors in the ER, but I don’t care. Get over there and sign whatever they need to make Stiles better or the next place I'm going to will be the nearest CPA office to file a report for child neglect.”

“Get out here-”

“No. I’m not leaving until you go see your son. He needs you and fuck if I stand by and watch you hurt him like it’s nothing.” He was beyond reigning it back in now. He turned all his righteous fury toward the secretary.  “I need the contact information for Child Protective Services. I'm sure you know who my dad is. I have him on speed dial if you want to deny me access and obstruct my report.”

It was dead silent for a moment. Tension burned on the air as Jackson stared down the secretary, who looked vaguely panicked at being trapped between her boss and this angry boy. 

“Give it to him,” Sheriff Stilinski told her, directing what Jackson was sure he thought was a forcefully Disappointed and Judgmental look at him. He could give less of a fuck what the sheriff thought about him though, and he stood confidently as the woman pulled up the information he asked for, eyes hard on the sheriff as the man gave him a long look.

Finally, it was Stilinski who broke the silence. 

“Barb, I’m off to the hospital,” he shook his head, scent projecting woe is me and annoyance. “I’ll be back after I put out whatever fires my son has been whipping up. I’ll have my radio on if you need to page me.”

They watched in silence as the sheriff stormed out of the station. Jackson felt a hot thrill of satisfaction go through him, contrasting oddly with the churning unpleasantness in his gut. Fuck. He knew it. He had been right all along. Right about Stiles and his stupid optimism, right about the neglect and stupidity of the boy’s inner circle.

Somehow he wasn’t surprised to feel...unhappy about it.

He paused, staring at the number in his hand. He had meant it as a legitimate threat to get the sheriff moving, he shouldn’t need it now that Mr. Stilinski was on his way to the hospital. But today had been a day of firsts. He had finally let himself give a crap about other people. He never would have gone this far for anyone before. Maybe...maybe he needed to stop trying to be good at stuff, and just try to be good. Nothing else had worked to make him feel good about himself. Might as well try.

He pocketed the card, a promise to do better. What a fucked up day this was turning out to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the parent bashing, but Im really not impressed with them in canon and I want to make them work to get to a better place here.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been writing for 6 hours for you guys. Because I love you and you deserve an update. Also because im a lazy ass who left this whole chapter till the day of posting to write....

 

 

He’s going to be fine. 

It had become her mantra, something to focus on as nurses ducked in and out of the room, poking various tubes and needles into Stiles as the boy lay insensible on the bed. It hadn't been more than thirty minutes since Jackson left, but she was missing him desperately as she felt her control on her pheromones slipping, the sharp vinegar scent of fear creeping in like a shadow. There was nothing she could do about it except try harder to clear her mind, so she settled herself into the chair in the corner of the room, out of the path of the hospital staff, and focused. If she couldn't control the situation she could at least control her reaction to it. 

Stiles was never someone she could control, but that didn’t stop him from being someone she wanted. As a friend, as a lover, even if—sometimes, he was someone she wanted gone.

Lydia hated hospitals with every fiber of her being. It wasn’t a trauma induced hate. She had never had a close loved one die, never been witness to a horrific accident, and even as a child getting her shots had never bothered her. No, she hated hospitals for the same reason she hated all the wet sciences, the same reason she hated people and their messy, unpredictable emotions. 

Before her nurses swarmed like flies on garbage, running this way and that, yelling for equipment or yelling out information as they poked and prodded at Stiles, who lay sweating and grunting at each invasive touch but never waking fully. With so many people in and out it was a wonder anyone could make sense of what was being done. 

It was out of control, and if there was one thing Lydia despised, it was anything she couldn’t have complete control over. 

From the moment her parents had announced they were getting a divorce back in third grade she had devoted herself to taking control. There were so many variables she could surround herself with that would never surprise her, if she paid attention and followed the necessary steps. Math was one, beautiful as it was in its formulas and predictability. Popularity was another, perhaps more surprising situation. She couldn’t control the random aspects that lead to gossip and social pariahs, but there was a clear pattern in the waves of social popularity that made manipulating the broader sentiment of a given population all too easy. Give them what they want to see, what they expect to see, and they would eat out of the palm of your hand. Makeup changed humans into goddesses while a false smile and simper opened doors of opportunity. Lies covered all the pesky and randomly fluctuating truths of her personal life and never letting anyone close enough to get a good look meant that all anyone saw was the facade of perfection. 

Her purse vibrated, her cell lighting up as she pulled it out. 

_ // Sheriff’s on his way, b there in 10 //  _ -Jax

Good. Someone who could finally help fix this mess. She shot Jackson a thumbs up emoji and pulled a nurse aside to tell her to get the paperwork for the pheromone therapy ready, giving her the fax number for Jackson’s father and her mother’s offices so they could get approval for staying. The nurse seemed relieved, only adding to the growing headache in Lydia’s temple. Seriously, it was infuriating to have the solution to a problem right there in front of them and to be held back because of a goddamned signature. 

_ // Just heads up sheriff is probs pissed // _ -Jax

She rolled her eyes at that, unsurprised that Jackson had to piss off the man to get his ass in gear. Well. The Sheriff had better watch out because he wasn’t the only one pissed off about all this. None of any of this had been part of her mostly theoretical, partially sex-fantasy plan of seducing Stiles into their bed, and it wasn't like she had penciled in ‘spend the day in the hospital working as a temporary medicinal replacement to keep your friend from dying’ into her planner this morning. 

**_// If the sheriff doesn't fix this he better watch his back because he will be on my shit list // -Lydia_ **

She sent with a huff, reclaiming her seat and keeping a keen eye on the door. 

_ // Lol. shit list? // _ -Jax

**_// Oh sorry, autocorrect. He’s going on my HIT LIST if he doesn't get his ass here now. Stiles isn't ok!! //_ ** **\- Lydia**

She sniffed, blinking angrily against a rising wetness in her eyes. She wanted Jackson here, she wanted Stiles out of this horrible place, she wanted to go to class and ace her chem test. She wanted everything to be normal and ok again. 

_ // Sorry. B there in 5. Love u. Driving now cnt text //  _ -Jax

“Lydia?”

She jumped in her seat, standing sharply as Sheriff Stilinski entered the hospital room. He looked confused to see her here, but he had a medical chart in his hand and the doctor on his heels. 

“Miss Martin, Sheriff, please have a seat while we get Stiles set up with his new meds.” The doctor was in a visibly better mood now that he had his patient's father on hand. Lydia nodded at the sheriff, refusing to let it be awkward as they both took a seat at the edge of the room. It took a surprisingly long time to set up the breathing mask and pheromone tank, no doubt because it was a little used treatment to a rare condition. Lydia was satisfied though, watching with interest as the doctor filled the sheriff in on Stiles’ condition, treatment plan, and possible outcomes. It was all fairly textbook; patients in Mate Shock were at high risks for seizures, fainting, extreme muscle fatigue and depending on the severity could fall into classic shock symptoms and possibly die. To the sheriff’s credit he gradually lost his defensive and belligerent demeanor as the doctor informed him of the situation. He sagged lower in his seat, clutching at the printouts in his hand as the doctor explained that Stiles was going to have to remain in intensive care for anywhere from a week to a month, and he clutched dramatically at his son’s shoulder when it was made clear that due to the violence of the bond break Stiles was likely to suffer from many of the more severe symptoms. It was enlightening at least, to realize the man truly had thought Stiles had taken himself to the hospital and lied about his condition for attention.

Eventually the room cleared out, leaving the two of them to watch over the sleeping boy. Lydia pulled her chair up to the edge of his bed, setting her purse in her lap as she watched the sheriff hesitate before doing the same. 

“So, uhh,” he cleared his throat, pointedly not looking at Stiles, even though he was laying between them like a wall. “What are you doing here Miss Martin? Shouldn’t you be in school right now?”

What the fuck.

She stared at the sheriff in disbelief. Did he really just ask that?

She didn’t break eye contact,  taking in his pressed uniform, the wrinkles under his eyes, the tired slant to his shoulders. He looked basically the same as he had looked for the last ten years. She would know him anywhere, but she wondered how well he would recognize any of the people his son interacted with day to day. 

“We’re friends,” she started, then stopped. “He needed to get to the hospital as fast as possible and we were right there, Jackson and I —” She huffed, annoyed at him for throwing her off with his stupid question that didn’t even make sense. 

“ I don’t know what to tell you,” she reached out, taking Stiles’ limp hand in hers with a careful squeeze. His pulse beat faintly under her fingers.

“He’s my _ friend _ . We do homework together, bicker over parking spaces, compete over test scores. We’ve been friends for years.” It was true. They are friends, even if casual observers only ever saw the competitiveness and bickering. That didn’t mean the little things weren’t there. The casual touches, inside jokes, the teasing and rough housing between the boys that they were always careful to keep away from her lest they felt her wrath, all of it was comfortable and familiar. Even Scott, stupid asshole that he is, was included. They were a group; a group of teenage assholes just trying to survive high school.

“You didn’t come to his birthday party.”

Mr. Stilinski was giving her this tired, disappointed look, and she was stumped. 

“Are you talking about his party back in third grade? The one I missed because my parents were finalizing their divorce and I had to go live with my grandmother for two months while they fought over who got the house?” Bitter disappointment was rising up inside her. It was like the universe delighted in throwing useless, self-righteous adults in her face every time she thought maybe, just maybe, she could stop resenting them enough to trust them to actually care. It was infuriating, the rising blush of embarrassment on the man’s face just pissed her off more.

Fuck them all.  

“You must be, because I know for a fact that in fourth grade he spent his birthday alone because he told us all that he was doing a family thing but we figured out the next day that he had just called himself out sick and spent the day at home alone. Then in fifth grade he and Scott were on that field trip to LA, the one where they almost got arrested for trying to steal an octopus. Sixth grade we all went bowling, which we decided to never do again because Scott and Jackson almost got into a fist fight and Stiles ended up dumping a smoothie on Jackson’s head.” She felt calm, all her focus on the man sitting across from her with a confused and uncomfortable pinch to his face. She wanted him gone. He had served his purpose, getting the medicine Stiles needed to get better and save her from the company of these idiots. If he wouldn’t slink off on his own then she would have to make him leave. It probably wouldn’t even be a challenge.

“Most years after that we did movies and pizza or something easy, except last year when Stiles and I were at that undergrad conference at Stanford, the one I know he lied to you about because he didn’t want to make you worry about college tuition this early. He told you he was spending the weekend at Scotts, and you never even texted to check in. Even Jackson was impressed it was that easy for him to skip town.”

The sheriff looked stricken, whether with anger, horror, or remorse she couldn't even begin to guess. She knew which ones she hoped he was feeling, but she wasn't stupid enough to hold her breath and believe this could be a turning point for him. That was Stiles job. She was just here as support.

“You should go, I’m sure you’re needed elsewhere, or at the very least that there’s things you need to be doing since Stiles is here for the foreseeable future. If you leave me your number I can let you know if there are any changes to his condition.”

“You’re staying with him?” 

Stupid man. He really couldn’t wrap his brain around someone caring about his kid. Jackson needed to get here soon or she was going to deck someone.  

“Stiles is the smartest person I know. That’s not an exaggeration, that’s a fact.” She pulled out her phone, checking the time. Soon enough her mom would get the paperwork back to the hospital and Jackson would be back to run a few errands for her. She was going to need a few things if they had to camp out here for the next few days.  “I know you have an important job, and lord knows I wouldn't know how to raise a kid on my own, but I can’t understand anyone hearing that their kid is in the hospital and thinking they are faking it, whatever that McCall woman might think. The doctors say we got lucky, that Jackson and I were able to get him here in time, that getting Stiles pheromone therapy  _ now _ instead of hours from now is going to save him weeks of pain. If we didn’t care about your son he would probably be at school, forcing himself through the motions. He would be minutes away from having a seizure, or already in an ambulance, without a single friend or family member believing he was in any danger.” She swallowed, pushing down the knot in her throat. This man didn’t deserve to see how upsetting that thought was to her. “Thank god he’s here. He’s been my friend for years, whether anyone cared to notice or not, and I don’t intend to leave him to suffer alone.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that. Watching him leave the room with only a quick glance back at his son, still lying unconscious on his hospital bed, face mask and wires obscuring a clear look at his face, Lydia felt her heart break. Just a little. 

It was fine though. They didn’t need him anymore. Stiles was going to be just fine. 

And so would she. 


	4. Hospital Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what happens in the time between.

**Day 1:**

After all is said and done, the paperwork filed, treatment implemented, extra cots brought in, the remainder of the day is spent in bored dread. Jackson made it back shortly after the sheriff had left, taking one look at Lydia before pulling her into his arms. They stood like that for a long while, just touching and breathing in the smell of each other, the steady hum of medical equipment and murmur of distant voices creating a bubble of privacy around them.

Stiles doesn't wake up, dipping in and out of rem sleep with twitches that shake his whole body and nonsense he occasionally mutters into the mask over his mouth and nose. The doctor says the pheromones are helping, that this way he might sleep off the worst of the initial shock. He doesn’t say anything about what will happen in the coming days, how Stiles is supposed to deal with the trauma of that empty spot in his heart.

He sleeps, and the two of them make the most of it, settling down for the long fight.

 

**Day 2:**

The sheriff arrives, only staying for half an hour, still giving the cold shoulder to Jackson but surprisingly civil to Lydia. He leaves them with a bag of personal toiletries and a few clothes for Stiles, walks out again without looking back, as if what’s happening to his son isn't real if he doesn’t see it.

Jackson almost punches a wall, then excuses himself to make a phone call.

 

**Day 3:**

Stiles wakes up just long enough to eat some jello and complain about it, seemingly confused as to where he is but not questioning the presence of Lydia, who patiently forces the green stuff into his pouting mouth. Jackson is in and out all day, talking with some people about the call, and is disappointed he wasn't there to film Stiles tripping balls.

Danny drops by with news from the front. The school is ablaze with gossip about the breakup, but no one seems to have any actual information about what went down besides seeing Stiles leave with Jackson and Lydia. That’s enough to fuel all sorts of rumors. They think he cheated on Scott, they think Jackson finally snapped and murdered Stiles, everyone has noticed Scott hanging around Allison and there's rumors that Scott had Jackson put Stiles in the hospital so he could be with his new fling. It’s all ridiculous, and irritating.

Within the hour instagram has a tragic Best Wishes and Prayers for Stiles post, hot and fresh from Lydia's homepage, complete with a heart wrenching (and masterfully filtered) image of him in his hospital bed. #MateShockWontShakeUs #QuietPleaseSleeping #Fighter #HospitalJelloIsEvil

By dinner time Stiles is the darling of insta and facebook, and someone has ordered them several prepaid pizzas, three bouquets of daisies, and a stuffed beluga that has "get whale soon!" embroidered on its stomach. Greenburg even hand delivered their missed homework assignments, although Jackson might have ordered him to do that.

The sheriff doesn’t visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next few chapters will still take it a day at a time, but will be in a more familiar style. Sheriff's pov!
> 
> ilu all <3 you guys are really helping me to be productive not only on this fic, but on my NaNoWriMo things as well. I suffer greatly from poor self esteem and hearing that even a few people dont think my writing is crap really helps.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys you have been too kind! I have tried to answer all your wonderful comments but a few might have slipped by me. Know that I have read them and love you for it!
> 
> Also real quick note about the universe at the end notes if you want to know how bonds and wolves work for me in this fic!

 

Day 4:

 

Noah Stilinski had always believed firmly that a man wasn’t a man if they couldn’t own up to their own mistakes.

These days he was learning what a bitter pill your own mistakes could be to swallow.

He didn’t know at what point he dropped the ball, but he was daily being punched in the gut with evidence that it was probably too long ago. Had the turning point been last Christmas, when several nights worth of bad weather had lead to a few major accidents that had kept him out on shift instead of at home with his son, well into the new year? Or had it been further back, when Stiles had been finally and firmly diagnosed with severe ADHD and put into summer school just to keep him from flunking 7th grade?

He hadn’t known what to do with his son before the medication, when Stiles was spinning his wheels faster than NASCAR from one subject to the next at top volume. The exhaustion of dealing with his son pre-medication gave way to the frustration of _keeping_ him medicated on schedule and all the associated lifestyle changes and doctors appointments necessary to get him balanced out into something resembling a functioning human being.

He knew there were years before that though, the dark times right after Claudia’s death, times he only vaguely remembered from deep inside whatever bottle he had on hand. He knew there was blame for him there, that he hadn’t been what his son had needed, both of them consumed by their grief and struggling to find common safe ground between them.

But they had survived, hadn’t they?

There was the cold, small thought in the back of his mind that maybe he had been failing Stiles before that even, before Claudia had left this world and provided the perfect excuse for the distance and quiet between them.

They had never explicitly spoken of those days leading up to her hospitalization after all, and there had been signs, strange bruises and a childish reluctance to see his father off to work that should have pinged on his radar. He was a cop, a damn good one. He knew the signs. But Stiles never said a word on the subject, and so he had dropped the thought, let it be buried under the stress and grief that had followed in the wake of intensive care, hospice, and funerals.

In the end, the results of neglect were the same, regardless of the _when_ in which they started.

Noah watched as his boy slept, painfully aware of the strangers that sat across the white linen sheets from him. These kids, with their omnipresent cell phones and meticulously put together outfits. Classmates of his son that he had barely met, let alone properly spoken to. Outside of Scott and Melissa he was quickly realizing that he had no idea who his son interacted with day to day. Who were his teachers? Who sat with him at lunch? Did he even get along with the boys on his lacrosse team or did he just stick to Scott like the glue Noah had always assumed would hold the two of them together forever? Was Stiles popular with his peers or was he, as Noah had always assumed, the class clown and a social outcast?

The thought churned in his gut till even looking his son in his sleeping face was like downing a shot of vodka and shame. It burned right through him. He thought his son was one of those annoying nerds who got shoved into lockers and ignored or mocked by their classmates. Why hadn’t he tried to step in, knowing Stiles was bullied? Why had he not been more concerned with his son’s life? When did his son become something to be annoyed by instead of someone to be loved and protected?

How did this happen?

Shame drove him out the hospital door, kept his mouth shut when that Whittemore kid sat at his son’s bedside and rubbed his son’s arm comfortingly. Shame kept his eyes down at work, ignoring the whispers from the other officers when he locked himself in his office instead of staying at his son’s bedside. He just needed a moment, just a little time to figure out where this all went so fucking wrong.

It took him three days to get his head out of his ass and decide on a plan. He would take it one thing at a time, working backwards until this damn thing was fixed, and every little mistake was ferreted out so they could be a real family again.

One step at a time.

“Barbra, I need you to make me a new schedule. I’m cashing in my personal time.” He dropped a stack of files on the desk of his very surprised secretary. “Here’s my current case load, I’m gonna need this redistributed among the force. I don’t want anything falling through the cracks while I’m gone.”

‘Of course Sheriff,” Barb actually looked relieved, reaching eagerly for the paperwork. “We’re all here for you and Stiles. You do what you gotta to get your boy taken care of ok? We don’t want to see your face around here till you’re both doing ok.” She gave him a significant look, well aware that he had a tendency to take every open shift, always insisting on giving his officers time off, regardless of when it came up or how busy his own schedule was. He had always thought it was something he would be admired for, but now he wondered if it got him more side looks and judgmental whispers than respect. “We’ll hold down the fort, don’t even worry. Go see your boy.”

“Will do. Thanks Barb.”

He would be seeing Stiles, but first he had to make a detour. Working this whole thing backwards step by step meant figuring out the immediate problem. The problem of why his son was in the hospital to begin with.

The problem of Scott.

It hadn’t escaped his notice that Scott had been nowhere to be found while his son was mostly unconscious and suffering from the effects of a suddenly broken bond. But it made no sense. He liked to think he could give himself enough credit to believe that had he really thought his son was in danger he would have been at the hospital as fast as humanly possible. But to be told that Stiles had Mate Shock? That somehow Scott, a boy who was basically all dimples and sunshine, who had been his son’s mate since kindergarten, had suddenly and violently rejected Stiles in the middle of a school day? Of course he had believed it was a lie, and Melissa had agreed. The boys had probably been up to something stupid and dangerous and were trying to cover it up. It wouldn’t be the first time, but he wasn’t sure that excused dismissing the doctor’s insistence that they needed him urgently at the hospital with his son.

He was done giving excuses. It was time to step up, and there were a few people he needed to talk to right now.

As hectic as a career in nursing could be for a single mom the one thing Melissa had been able to insist on was a stable schedule. Her days off were always the same, making it easy for Noah to find her now that he needed to ask her some very awkward and possibly relationship ruining questions.

He knocked firmly on her door, allowing himself to fall into his interrogation mindset. He needed the facts, and there was a good chance he hadn’t been the only parent lying to themselves about their child’s personal life recently. A normal, happy person didn’t just suddenly snap and destroy a mating bond out of the blue after all.

The door opened and he was met with a slightly awkward smile from the woman who had helped raise his son for the last decade. “Noah. How are you?”

He lifted an eyebrow, heart sinking. This wasn’t what he would call a good sign.

“I’m fine. Stiles isn’t doing so well of course, being the one in the hospital and all that. Mind if I come in? Because this is a clusterfuck and I have to say I'm a bit at a loss as to what the heck is happening.”

He moved to step forward but to his surprise Melissa blocked him with an outstretched arm, a fake smile on her face as she tried to play it off as casually leaning against the door frame.

“Oh, I was going to take a shower just before you knocked. I wouldn’t want you to have to wait around. Besides, I talked to Scott about this whole hospital thing and he said it’s just a misunderstanding.” Her smile looked very tense now, and Noah wondered if she believed even a little bit in what she was saying. “The doctors must have jumped the gun when that Lydia girl came running in yelling about Mate Shock. That would be exciting, wouldn't it? We haven't had a case of real Mate Shock in years. It just doesn’t happen.”

“The doctors seem convinced,” he kept his voice even, all senses on high alert now that he had something to focus on. “He’s been unconscious for three days, his vitals up and down and only the pheromone therapy seems to be doing its job keeping him from getting worse.”

Her smile wavered at the news that Stiles hadn’t woken up, but her arm stayed firmly in place, blocking him from entry. “I don’t know what to say, Noah. Scott swears he didn’t break their bond. It’s something else entirely. I hope...” she wavered, then composed herself. “I hope they figure it out soon, for your son’s sake.”

She looked him dead in the eye as she spoke, and Noah could feel the crack forming, another piece of happiness in his life slipping away with her lies.

“So you’re telling me this was all just a misunderstanding on Stiles’ part.” If she was going to do this he wasn’t going to let her lie to herself about who she was destroying in the process. Stiles deserved better than that. He deserved to be acknowledged.

“You’re saying that if I went to Scott right now and asked him if he and my son are mates he would say ‘yes sir absolutely, we are and have always been mates and I would never do something so horrible like rip our mate bond apart with no warning or thought for your son’s safety and health, and then pretend the bond never existed so I could fuck another girl without any consequences’. Just a misunderstanding.  Is that what you’re telling me?”

Melissa pursed her lips, eyes betraying some anger over his words, but she said nothing. There wasn’t anything that she could say that wouldn’t be a lie.

He took a breath. Deep in through the nose, slowly out the mouth. “It seems to me like we have a problem Melissa. My son is lying here in the hospital, half dead and alone because his mate hurt him. I’m hearing through the grapevine that your son is out there going on dates with some new girl and telling everyone he knows that he was never mate bonded to Stiles, completely throwing my son under the bus with a legitimately criminal negligence bordering on assault.”

She lifted her chin defiantly at his words but he waved her silent. He didn't know how to make this more clear for her. Personal relationship aside, this wasn’t something he could just ignore or make disappear. He wouldn’t do it. Not this time.

“I’m not fucking joking. Melissa. This is serious. Stiles could have _died_ levels of serious. What I’m confused about is when you decided that all those years of us being as close as family became covering Scott’s ass when he does something so blatantly wrong.”

“He’s my son, Noah.” Her voice was cold, as if they didn’t have years of history between them, hadn't found comfort in each other in the absence of their spouses. As if Stiles was some stranger and not a boy she had known for most of his life.

“And you’ve told Stiles for years that he’s your second son,” he pleaded with her. “ We’ve both been so quick to come down hard on Stiles when we think he’s done something wrong, so easily fell into policing his morality. We were a team and we watched out for him, like any parent would. We’ve never hesitated to call Stiles out when he gets out of hand. Why does Scott get a free pass instead of having to face the consequences of his actions? Goddamnit Melissa, why are you backing him up on this instead of parenting your child properly?”

She took a step back, breathing in sharply but he could see that doubt mixed with the anger his words had stirred up.

She slammed the door shut, right in his face, leaving him standing in silent shock on her porch.

How had it come to this?

His pocket buzzed, drawing him out of his frozen state. He fumbled his phone out, mind already racing with what consequences and actions he would have to take against the woman he had considered his closest friend and partner.

 _//Stiles is awake and asking for you//_ -Lydia Martin

He stared at the message, then took another breath, pocketing the phone and walking back to his car.

One problem at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not pleased with the Sheriff (sorry for all you John stans out there! I just decided to stick to canon but I kind of like John Stilinski better myself XD), but he is starting his redemption run. It will be a long trial for him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So like, this might be the most I've ever written in a day??? And yet I still feel like its not great. Sorry it was late (uhh my time that is), I spent my Sunday staring into the void...I literally cant say I did anything that day :( 
> 
> FYI Mr Whittemore here is a man of my own creation. No canon was used in the making of his personality and dialog. 
> 
> WARNINGS: not particularly cop friendly. Don't like dont message me about it please. I did my time, six years of it, in poly sci undergrad.

“Mother fucking zubats,” Stiles groaned, dropping his 3DS into his lap with a huff. Jackson grunted, thumb smacking rapidly on his own DS. “Dude, you know rapid tapping doesn't help the catch rate, right? It’s all about timing it so you push the button right as the ball finishes flashing!” He made a grab at the game, but Jackson tipped back on his chair expertly, eyes never leaving the screen as he held it out of reach. Stiles wasn’t to be ignored however, and he began pinching whatever part of the boy he could from his spot on the bed. 

With a growl Jackson dropped the game into his bag and was on Stiles in a flash, retaliating with pinches of his own. The scuffle quickly devolved into a slap fight for a solid couple minutes before they tired themselves out, or rather Stiles tired himself out and had to call uncle so he could lay there wheezing like a beached whale. Jackson, the smug bastard, wasn’t even breathing hard. With one last pinch to Stiles’ hip that made the teen squeal like a piglet he began pushing and pulling him back into place, checking all his wires and tubes and generally bullying him into a position more fitting a human and not a salted slug. 

“Well that killed ten minutes,” Stiles tried not to whine, but he knew he was pouting. “I miss my xbox, and pants. I really miss pants. This whole paper underwear, open-back nonsense has left me feeling vulnerable to drafts and perverts alike.” He threw an arm up over his head dramatically. The hospital gown flopped loosely over his shoulder at the movement. “I think holding innocent teenagers hostage in a mostly empty white room without even a tv is against the Geneva Convention.” 

Jackson rolled his eyes. “You aren’t a prisoner of war, Stiles. At the most this would be a human rights violation. Now do your breathing exercises. Lydia won't hesitate to cut you if she finds out you’ve been slacking.”

 Stiles wrinkled his nose, staring at the ceiling for a good ten seconds before flailing at the injustice of it all with a mighty shout of frustration. Jackson just stared blankly at him until he settled back into the bed, his whole face turning hot enough to know he would be blushing like a lobster if his complexion was capable of anything beyond vampiric whiteness.

“Those breathing exercises are stupid. I feel like I’m a lady about to give birth with all that deep breathing. I keep waiting for someone to tell me to push.” 

“Just do it. You’ll feel better after,” Jackson leaned in, pulling the sheet up to Stiles’ chest and pressing him down until he settled with a scowl. “The sooner you feel better the sooner the doctors will unleash you back into the world. So hurry the fuck up so we can start crushing worthless Beacon High students into submission. Lydia won't let us focus on lacrosse until the whole school is back under our heels.” 

“Ugh,” Stiles agreed, wiggling back into the sheets and closing his eyes. 

Breathing. Right. Deep breath in through the nose, get those good good pheromones inside him, hold it and try not to choke or hyper focus on the lack of air coming in. Now back out through the mouth until his lungs were as empty as his bank account. Rinse and repeat until the building tremor in his hands had faded to just a slight tremor, and the building need to scream and cry was back down to regular ADHD levels of frustration and boredom. Fuck, it was real hard to tell when the Shock was building when he always kind of felt like this regularly. 

There were some days he didn’t feel bitter about people blessed with functioning brains. Then there were stuck-in-the-hospital-fighting-for-your-sanity days, when every able bodied person could just suck a dick.

 For a while he was able to just breathe, nasal cannula feeding him the good stuff as he floated in the smell of calm and comfort. Distantly he could feel Jackson grasp his wrist, a calloused thumb rubbing soothing circles along his pulse. It was better than holding hands, and part of Stiles began to daydream about comfortable evenings spent like this, maybe curled up on the couch with a book, Jackson absently playing with his hand while Lydia’s legs rested across their laps. A happy pile of comfort.

It was a good day dream, and he became less and less uncomfortably aware of his breathing as he fell into the rhythm and slightly high feel of it all.

He must have dozed off, because when he next opened his eyes someone had drawn the curtains and Jackson was standing across the room, phone to his ear and a look on his face that Stiles would call embarrassed if Jackson was the kind of person to ever show anything but 100% cocky bullshit. 

“Yeah, room 402 - no, you don't have to bring anything, really. It’s already weird enough,” he paused, covering his mouth as if to physically stop himself from groaning before his gaze flicked to Stiles, eye twitching when he saw the other teen looking back at him expectantly. “Ok. Yeah, he’s awake now. I’ll see you in a bit. Love you too.” 

Stiles stared at him, his eyes practically bugging out. 

“ _What the fuuuck,_ ” he whispered, watching as Jackson slowly morphed into a tomato. 

“Shut up,” Jackson growled, stomping over to his bedside. Stiles flinched when his arm snapped out, but all he did was grab a tissue from the side table and thrust it at Stiles. “Wipe your chin. You’ve got drool everywhere and my dad will be up any second.”

“What? Your dad? Why?” Stiles flailed, rubbing frantically at his face and almost ripping out his saline IV in the process. 

“Well he obviously knows I’ve been out of school the last few days to stay with you, since he had to sign the forms and all.” He ran a hand through his hair distractedly, and Stiles spared a moment from his internal panic to ogle. It wasn’t his fault it looked like sex hair and he was frustrated from days without even his own hand to keep him satisfied. He was ill, not dead. 

“He just wants to drop by and see how things are, if we need anything, you know. He likes to check in.”

“Ok, uhh, what am I supposed to say to him? Does he know uhh, about us?” 

Jackson shrugged, but before he could respond there was a knock on the door, and despite Stiles frantically miming NO at him Jackson jumped up to open it. Stiles quickly plastered on a smile. It felt as fake as his paper underwear.

“Hello Stiles! I don’t believe we’ve formally met,” Mr. Whittemore said, stepping into the room like he owned it, his cheerful voice booming a tad too happily for a hospital setting. 

“Yeah, nice to meet you sir. Sorry it isn’t someplace nicer.” Stiles took the offered handshake, relieved when it was gentle and that Mr. Whittemore seemed to be aware that he might be in a bit of pain over sudden movements. 

“I’m glad to hear my boy was of some use to you in all this terrible business,” he said, exchanging Stiles’ handshake for a ruffle of Jackson’s hair, which Jackson predictably ducked out of with a scowl as if he hadn’t already fucked up his gel job a few moments ago.

“I’m happy to lend my son out to you, as I’m sure he is happy to be with you right now.” He shot his son a knowing look before snapping his focus back on Stiles. 

“So shocking to hear what that boy did to you, it’s absolutely deplorable. Never thought I’d see the day a case of Mate Shock would be so blatantly and viciously inflicted in public on a high school student no less,” Mr. Whittemore tutted, taking the seat Jackson waved him over to. “By all accounts you are a nice, if somewhat mischievous young man, and I hate to hear that anyone would think they could get away with such violence against another human being.” 

Stiles opened his mouth, unclear of what the heck he was supposed to say to that, but Mr. Whittemore steamrolled on, pulling out paperwork from his shiny black briefcase and looking positively gleeful. “Now, if what my son has been telling me all these years about you is correct then I don’t think you are just going to take this kind of assault lying down, so to speak,” he eyed the many wires and medical tubing with a wince. “I hope these can enlighten you on your rights in this case and the options available to you should you seek to file a suit against young McCall.”

Stiles found himself with a lap full of legal printouts and pamphlets, but before he could say anything Mr. Whittemore was off again. “You have every right to compensation for any medical bills, physical and emotional damages, and social slander that may arise or has arisen in consequence of his assault against you. I highly recommend you speak to your father about pressing charges and I sincerely hope you will give me a call when you do. I know your father and I don’t see eye to eye on, well, most everything! But I am offering my services to you in this matter regardless of any ongoing feuds and or grudges that we may hold against one another.”

Wow. Stiles wondered if this is how people felt when he forgot his adderall.

“Ok? Thanks, I guess.” He glanced at Jackson, hoping for some explanation for this info dump, but Jackson just smirked, giving a careless wave as if to say ‘I have nothing to do with this, it’s your problem, I’m just an innocent bystander’. Stiles was tempted to flip him off, father or no, but he was too uncomfortable over this whole conversation without adding parental disapproval to the mix. 

“Don’t know if I will be pressing charges,” he tried, diplomatically. “But thanks? For the offer. I don’t know how my dad would feel about taking on a lawyer who he works with, but I’ll let you know?” 

“Young man, no need to beat around the bush so. You’re much more polite than I thought you would be.” He lightly smacked Jackson over the back of the head. “I don’t know why you are always whining son! Stiles seems like a good kid. Charming, but unnecessarily cautious in his words.” Mr Whittemore grinned like a shark. “I am well aware your father hates my guts! I don’t much care for _his_ morals either. But he knows I take my job seriously, and will defend any client to the utmost under the law. I believe he respects me enough on that account to trust me should you take McCall to court on this.” 

“Uhhh,” Stiles looked at Jackson beseechingly. Seriously, this was practically physically painful here. He didn’t know what the fuck to say, and he was losing all sense of self without the ability to instantly one-line some zingers back.

Jackson took pity on him. Sort of. He took Stiles hand again at least, doing the rubbing thing that Stiles was determined to make him do every day forever if it always worked this well on his nerves.

“Dad loves the legal system, just not cops.” Jackson said, as if that explained everything. 

Mr Whittemore snorted, a full bellied rumble that made Stiles jump at its suddenness.

“Right on the money, son. An officer’s job is to uphold the law, just as a lawyer’s job is to present evidence of law breaking -or not, as the case may be. Guilt is determined in the courtroom, by judge and jury, not by cops on the beat.” He shrugged, smile never slipping. “Unfortunately I don't know any cops who see it that way. To them their job is to catch the criminals. They ‘hand us the bad guys’ and can’t stand to see due process because in their mind guilt is already determined.”

 Stiles bristled at the indirect slight to his father as Jackson sulked down into his chair like he wanted to phase through the floor. He didn’t let go of Stiles’ hand though, and Stiles found himself biting back his immediate response of ‘go to hell’. He didn’t want Jackson to get in trouble with his father, or for Mr. Whittemore to make Jackson leave. He was still pissed though.

“Bad guys don’t always get convicted,” Stiles ground out, anger waring with the happy scent being fed through his cannula. “You can’t believe it’s a good thing when criminals are just let back out into the world without serving time.”

To his surprise Mr. Whittemore just laughed; a genuinely amused laugh too, not nasty or condescending as Stiles had always assumed Jackson’s father would be based on the complaints he heard around the station.

“People aren’t always guilty either, son. Sometimes cops accuse the wrong person, sometimes juries let a real criminal go. It’s not a perfect system, but I prefer to be on the side where people get their chance to plead their case.” He slapped his legs suddenly, rising out of his seat with his beaming smile comfortably in place. “And as I said- case wise!” He pulled out a business card, handing it to Stiles who took it automatically, still reeling a bit from the switch. “Should you decide to pursue a case against McCall and recompense for any damages you have incurred during the events of your health troubles please do not hesitate to call! My line is always open to young clients such as yourself and rest assured, we work hard to recover what you are owed.”

He stepped back, grabbing his briefcase and giving Jackson a loving combination half hug, arm grab. “Take good care of him, son. He’s a cute one, even if he is a cop’s kid,” he winked at them both, and then was gone in a whirlwind of purpose, suit coat billowing along behind him like a cape.   

“Ummmmmm???? What. The. Fuck?” Stiles said eloquently, flailing between the now closed door, himself, and Jackson, who groaned in mortal pain, burying his face in his hands.

“I’m so sorry he’s like this.”

“Dude that was hilarious, and infuriating! Does he always sound like he’s narrating a mesothelioma lawsuit commercial? I can't believe my dad hasn’t broken down and killed him yet. This is gold. I'm going to meme the crap out of the whole station. How is your dad even real?”

“He means well,” Jackson heaved a huge sigh. “He has a point though. At some point you’re going to figure out what to do about McCall,” he bared his teeth at the mention of the other boy and Stiles looked down, not wanting to see the heat in the other boy’s gaze. “I vote not letting him get away with attempted murder.”

“Dude, can we not right now? I’m think I’m entitled to recovery time after such a traumatic visit.”

“Whatever. Where’s your DS? I want to get out of that godforsaken cave before Lydia gets back.” 

“Hah, not happening. I bet $10 she shows up in the middle of a battle and doesn't believe you can’t save and shut it off immediately.” He felt around for the system anyway. There wasn’t much else to do until Lydia showed up. His dad promised to bring some books by, but he hadn’t stopped by that day yet and Stiles was already regretting not asking Lydia to bring by homework. 

“Dude, I wonder if this will be the event that mends bridges between our dads? Imagine a world where they don’t hate each other’s guts. That would be trippy.” He nudged Jackson, expecting the teen to laugh with him. The rivalry between their fathers was legendary in the county justice system. Judges hated having to handle any case that brought the two into the same room together.

But Jackson didn’t laugh. He didn’t say anything at all, and Stiles felt a tight cramp in his gut at the thought of Jackson getting pissed off at him. 

“Hey, sorry if I crossed a line, dude. You know me, just spitballing!” 

“I called CPS the other day,” Jackson said, apropos of nothing, and Stiles felt a spike of panic. Was this about the Whittemores hating his dad? He felt dizzy suddenly, and his chest was painfully tight with his heart trying to beat its way out through his ribs.

 “Not on your dad! Jesus Stiles, breathe ok? I didn’t call CPS on your dad.” Jackson flailed around a bit before he managed to gather himself and pressed the button for more pheromones and some of the low dose pain reliever they had attached to the IV. “Sorry, sorry. Fuck. I didn’t mean to freak you out.” Jackson was shaking, and Stiles flapped nervelessly at him while they both grabbed at each other to calm down. 

“Lydia did suggest making it a two for one, but I wouldn’t...do that without talking to you first.”

“You better fucking never,” Stiles felt his own teeth bared in a snarl, and a monitor somewhere to the left started making annoyed sounds. 

“No, I wouldn’t. Probably. No promises for Lyds though,” Jackson looked away, frowning at the wall. His voice held no heat to it when he continued. “Do you, uhh, you know that Lahey kid? Issac? Tall, blond, kind of looks like a mix between a spaniel and a golden retriever?” 

Stiles blinked, losing some of the tension that had been boiling over, all his energy drained from the almost panic attack. “Uhhh, yeah? Weird but oddly spot on description there, dude. He was going to try out for lacrosse, wasn’t he?” Ughhh. His chest ached a bit from the roller coaster of fear there, but the machine was quiet so he took that as a good sign and tried to focus on whatever the fuck Jackson was trying to communicate here. They would have to have words later about how to start a fucking conversation without the panic attacks. 

Jackson nodded, still staring into the middle distance. “He couldn’t because he broke his arm. Or, I guess, I’m pretty sure his dad broke it for him.” 

“Oh.” There wasn’t really much to say about that. Jackson nodded. He knew what Stiles meant. 

“I think my dad’s right, about the whole everyone deserves to be heard thing. No one wanted to hear Isaac's story.” he coughed, clearing his throat, but the tension was still there. “I didn’t want to either. I ignored him for years, even though I knew what was going on. I could hear a lot from my room, you know? I know the cops got called a couple of times but his dad talked them out of doing anything, I guess. I don’t know,” he sniffed, shaking his head as if annoyed at his own body for daring to feel emotions. “I know I was sick and tired of being part of the system that let this shit happen. I’m sick of being the bad guy because it’s easier. I want to be someone my dad has reason to be proud of. And...no one deserves to get beat on by their family.”

Stiles didn’t say anything. He was exhausted, and if Jackson was telling the truth then calling CPS was the best thing he could have done. Stiles didn’t want to fight anymore today. He could feel the creeping numbness that came hand in hand with exhaustion. No more bad thoughts.

He reached out, and Jackson met him halfway, giving his hand a tight squeeze, and a little of the numbness was replaced with the warm press of skin against skin. Yeah, this was going to be their thing, he could tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter made sense! It was kind of all over the place. It was supposed to be a short, funny chapter T_T  
> I love you guys lots and lots. I have never written so consistently in my life and i attribute it to the fact that you guys seem to enjoy this fic so much, so thanks!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this from my phone so hopefully it works. Sorry this has taken so long to update. December shanked me with work, January burried me in depression. I should be back on schedule for posting so expect another chapter come sunday!

Stiles was not feeling better.

True, he felt better than he _ could _ theoretically be feeling. He was alive and all that, or at least he assumed that’s what all the puking he had been doing meant. That he was alive. He felt kind of like death though, and there was a growing, nagging fear that things would only get worse from here. He had seen it, how fast a person could decline from feeling just a little under to slipping away into nothingness.

Here in the hospital, alone in the early morning hours in between in what he had begun to call the Changing of the Guard when his father has gone home for a few scant hours of rest and Lydia and Jackson haven’t come to visit yet, this time was bad for Stiles. He knew he shouldn’t be left alone with his thoughts, alone in his head where he had the time and silence to wonder what was happening to him, what was going to happen to him.

He could have sworn that earlier he saw one of the doctors googling his symptoms, because of fucking course he had to go and get one of the least common illnesses related to recessive wolf genes. Why couldn’t he have just gotten Wolfman Syndrome and grown excessive body hair in awkward places like the mayor’s daughter did a few years ago? 

He shivered, punching listlessly at his pillow in a futile attempt to get comfortable. He had thrown a fit yesterday after a horrible night of rolling around on the stiff hospital bed, desperately seeking a good night's rest that just refused to come. He wanted to go home. He wanted his own bed, his own pillow that was just the right amount of lumpy and the bedspread that smelled like him. The stark white of the hospital room was starting to drive him crazy. In the dark of the night, never fully dark of course due to the glow of electronics and the constantly occupied nurse’s station around the corner, he had nothing to distract him from his increasingly depressed thoughts. 

He should sleep off his symptoms if possible, stay calm. All the doctors said so. Google said so. He should know. Lydia had confiscated his phone after he had started to develop a twitch, fingers frantically flicking through site after site as he researched. It was something he was familiar with, the urge to know. When his mother had first gotten sick he had done the same thing. He couldn’t control all the horrible things in the world, but he could arm himself with knowledge so that he wouldn’t be surprised by them at least. He could control what he knew.

So yeah, He needed to sleep. The problem with sleeping was that it was so boring. It was bad enough that he was sick, but it was an absolute injustice that he was out of school, not even allowed to do homework, and yet he wasn’t having any fun at all.

He never even got the hang of lucid dreaming, anytime he became aware that he was asleep he woke up almost instantly. And if actual sleep was bad then the process of falling asleep was worse. He fidgeted, twitched, and wiggled himself raw trying to relax enough to drop off in an environment built to stress him out. Ironic, since he was supposed to be avoiding stress at all costs. It wasn’t any fault of the hospital staff or even his friends and family. Just existing in a hospital stressed him out. These white walls and cold, clean smells were nightmare fuel for dreams in which his father has been shot or his mother is dying, again.

It was a good thing he was rarely alone for long.

There was a knock at the door now, and he perked up, not quite able to spring up with his usual energy but he wiggled himself upright as the door swung open. 

“Hey honey,” Melissa said, entering the room with a soft smile as Stiles’ mouth fell open in shock. He hadn’t seen her since before this whole mess started. All his dad would say was that she was dealing with Scott, whatever that meant. The way his dad had frowned hadn’t given him a lot of hope though.

“How’s the hospital treating you? I brought contraband,” she said, pulling a walgreens bag out of her purse and handing it to him with a wink as he made grabby hands for it. “Don’t eat it all at once and if you get caught then I was never here and I know nothing about any chocolate.”

“Oh my gosh, thank you. You’re the best!” Stiles gushed, cooing happily over his spoils. He never should have doubted Melissa. There looked to be just enough candybars to last a few days if he rationed them, or just enough for one awesome secret binging disaster.

“Oh no, I’ve created a monster,” she made a face as he ripped into a pack of peanut butter cups and shoved one whole into his mouth like a chipmunk. “You do look kind of pathetic and starved. Is the vending machine on this floor still out?”

“Yuaah, ish still got a maintenance sign up.” He swallowed, only choaking a little as he devouared the chocolate goodness that is Reeses. “Sorry. I had Jackson check and he said the sign is still the same one from last July too. I think it’s just going to become a permanent memorial to all the bad food choices people have been forced to make here over the years.”

“Sounds about right. Why fix anything around here when you can just put a sign up? Ugh, be glad you don’t have to work here. Management sucks.” She grabbed the wrapper from him and gave him the eye when he looked about ready to breathe in the next Reeses without having learned anything from almost choking two seconds ago. 

“When you get out I’ll make Noah bring you over for dinner. You both look like hell and I’m sure he won’t have time to fatten you back up, not with the way he feeds himself,” she sniffed disapprovingly, the Stilinski family diet of takeout and fast food a well known battle between them. 

“Umm,” he paused in the middle of ripping a Snickers wrapper open with his teeth. He spit the plastic out awkwardly. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. “I don’t really see how I can, with Scott and all…”

She laughed, dropping down to sit on the bed near his feet. “Honey,” she patted his leg, a familiar comfort, “I’ve known you for most of your life, and I’ve known Scott his whole life. You guys fight but you always make up. You’re best friends, and I don’t see a little thing like girl trouble keeping you two apart for long.”

“Huh?”

She sighed. “I know he wants to apologize. But you know Scott. He hates admitting he did something wrong. I know it’s not fair, but give him a little time? He misses you. He’ll pull his head out of his you know what soon enough and you two will be back to your old tricks in no time.”

“Uhmm.” He didn’t know what to say. He felt like he was missing something, like half of the conversation had been going on without him. Maybe they were just on two totally separate pages and she just didn’t realize? 

“I’m not fine, Mrs. McCall,” he tried, doing his best to stay calm and reasonable. Defuse the situation, like a bomb. “I don’t think there’s any fixing this, at least, not back to what it was. Not with how badly Scott hurt me.” His chest was doing weird things, constricting on him like maybe he could just fold inwards like hiding under the covers from the closet monster. Maybe if he stopped breathing this would all go away and he wouldn't have to finish this conversation. This conversation was going to change everything, he knew it. 

“Honey don’t worry so much. It’s already been a week without any major complications, you’re gonna be just fine.” She wasn’t looking at him anymore, her eyes pinched as she studied the heart monitor next to him like it held all the secrets to the universe.

Oh. He was so stupid.

“Gaslighting.” Stiles felt the word stick in his throat, but he forced it out. It was textbook after all. Fuck his life.

She blinked, pausing in her fussing. “What?”

“Gaslighting,’ he said again, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He raised his hand, trying to ignore the small tremor in it, pressing the nasal cannula closer to take a calming breath of synthetic comfort. “It’s a form of abusive manipulation where the abuser will seek to cover their lies and wrongdoing by turning all bad actions back on the victim. They often confuse their chosen target with a combination of friendly concern or care that masks the fact that they are purposefully trying to make their victim question reality or blame themselves for any wrongdoings that the abuser has perpetrated.” God, it made so much sense. Scott always acted like this too, but he had always thought that was just Scott being forgetful or too silly sometimes to remember details. Lord knows everyone always said Stiles was the pessimist in their relationship and Scott the literal ray of sunshine. Maybe there was a time it wasn’t always like this, but he couldn’t remember when that must have been. He had always been the ‘bad kid’, the bad influence leading Scott astray, driving people crazy, justifying the constant neglect and nitpicking that took the place of actually being properly raised as a kid.

“By constantly changing details of events, claiming they never happened or happened differently than they really did, they make their victims doubt their own memories, often warping it back onto the victim who will then feel guilty for questioning the abuser, who usually works really hard to seem nice and trustworthy.”

Fuck. Had he really been so pathetic all this time? Was anyone actually who he thought they were? 

“Have you been on wikipedia again Stiles?” He could practically hear the eyeroll in her voice.  _ So stupid. “ _ I’m pretty sure all night internet trivia searches don’t fall under your doctor’s orders.”

He swallowed, mouth dry from the air constantly being piped into his body through a tube. “So how bad would I have to be for you to admit Scott hurt me?” _God he didn't want to do this._ _Why the fuck was he saying this?_ “Would I have to be bleeding? Missing a limb?” He couldn’t stop his mouth, the words just poured out like blood from an open wound. “Would I have to die? Will it take my fucking corpse on a cold table in the morgue before anyone fucking admits that this isn't ok?

“Stiles!” Melissa pushed off the bed, stepping back from him like he was some sort of wild animal, a snake about to strike. He wondered if she noticed her stance was braced for impact. 

“Just say it.” His mouth was on autopilot, dragging the one thought he had been trying so hard to bury so deep down that he wouldn't even think of it out into cold hard reality. “Say Scott broke our mating bond. Say it in words. He broke the mating bond between us.” She was already shaking her head though, some excuse on her lips and he just couldn’t handle that. If he had to hear one more excuse without having his say he might just really die. “You won't do it, will you? You’ve known me for most of my life. You were there when my mom wasn't anymore, you know I love Scott with everything I am. Why won't you say it? He hurt me so badly and you won't even admit it.” His family was slipping through his fingers and he couldn’t find the energy to hold on. 

“Stiles, honey, we just went over this. He didn’t think there was a bond. He felt fine after you left school that morning! He thought it was just a panic attack and you needed time to cool off. And that new girl he met is so nice... I know it hurts, but please, just let us move on from this. It doesn’t have to change anything. You’re still important to him.” 

God, she sounded like she almost believed it. Almost.

Stiles licked his lips, dragging his dry tongue across the newly forming cracks in the skin. He really wasn’t doing so good. “I wasn't important enough though, was I?” he said, voice cracking like he was thirteen again. “As long as I'm not actually dead I guess what happens to me doesn't matter to either of you.”

“Stiles!” If only he had a nickel for everytime someone used his name like an expletive. He could actually afford college if that was a thing. “He’s my  _ son _ . I can’t lose him, not like this.” Her voice was too loud, tinged with a desperation that was starting to scare him. He was crying again and Stiles realized she had moved so close that they were touching, her hand moving till she cupped his arm like a vice. 

“Please Stiles, he never meant any of this to happen. You’re his best friend.” She shook him with each word, like she might beat her plea into his skin if she could get away with it. Her words were already like arrows puncturing him while he lay trapped and vulnerable to the onslaught. 

“Yeah, I’m his best friend. But Scott was my  _ everything _ , and he never even realized. It’s a joke. I would have done anything for him, I loved him so much, and it's all a fucking ‘no homo bro’ joke to him,” he tried to shake her off, but he couldn't even pull his arm free, and he could feel the sharp indent in his skin where her nails were cutting in. “Let go, leave me alone! All you can think about is how to keep him out of jail. You don’t give two shits about how this is killing me.”

“Because it’s stupid! I know it feels important now but this is teenage drama. It’s high school and it will pass and you will get over it like every adult has before you.”

His jaw dropped. Sweat was starting to sting around his eyes, mixing with the tears and the snot that he could feel start to run, but he had no control left. He screamed at her, a wild animal thing that surprised her enough to let him smack his way free from her touch. “Look around you! Look at where we are! I haven’t be able to go home for a week. For a whole week I’ve been trapped here because I can't breathe on my own. I can’t stop shaking or keep food in my stomach without puking it up. I haven’t slept in days because everything about this place reminds me of my mom dying, and how I could die because my fucking best friend doesn’t have enough common sense to feel a goddamned mating bond attached to his soul!” 

He was sobbing, gross gasping that made him want to retch even as it shook through him. Melissa stared at him, seemingly frozen as she watched him fall apart. 

“You need to go. I fucking can’t right now.” He groped around until his fingers found the emergency page button, raising it threateningly. “I’m telling my dad about this. He'll make sure you don’t get within a foot of this building, so don't even try it.”

It would be a miracle if his dad didn’t get her fired over this. They both knew that though, so he didn’t bother pointing it out. He didn’t have the breath for it. 

“I don’t want to see you or Scott until you can’t hurt me anymore.”

He hadn’t pushed the button yet, but the rapidly approaching sound of steps coming down the hall made it clear that all his screaming hadn’t gone unnoticed. Without another word, or even glance back at him, Melissa left. He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than her trying to stay. The click of the door behind her feels so final.

So this is it. It was over. Almost a decade of having a second family, a surrogate mother who treated him like her own son, a second place he could go home to when he couldn’t handle being alone, a friend who was like a brother but was really a perfect match that he was so so lucky to have in his life. All gone.

This had never happened to him before, this weird experience of having people  _ chose _ to leave him. His mom had died a lingering and unwanted death. Past, almost forgotten friends like Heather had drifted peacefully away. But this was over. A sudden and violent removal of people from his trust, from his life. He hadn't even talked to Scott yet, but that said something in and of itself. Scott was going on dates, she said. Scott was telling his mom that this, this whole fucked up mess between them, was nothing. Scott hasn't even sent a get well card. 

Stiles felt so cold.

The person running down the hall finally reached his door, and he looked up as his dad burst into the room in a panic, his eyes rapidly flying about the space looking for danger, but finding no threat.

As the familiar smell of his dad hit him Stiles let out a whimper. 

“I don’t feel good,” he choked out as the tears kept flowing. His stomach was rolling and it felt like all his strength was flushing away down a drain, leaving his muscles weak and fluttery. 

“Daddy,” he said, brokenly, and that’s all it takes. Noah is across the room in an instant, sweeping the sobbing boy into his arms like he isn't seventeen and he can still carry his boy around on his shoulders. 

“You’re ok Kiddo. Let’s breathe ok?” He gathered Stiles up, crawling carefully into the bed and arranging them both so the sobbing boy was pressed to his chest, ear over his father’s heart. “Just like we used to. In and out, there you go, you’re fine son. You’re going to be just fine.”

“He doesn’t love me,” Stiles says. “He never did, he- he says he never loved me.”

They rock together as Stiles cried out his loneliness onto his father’s tan uniform. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hated this chapter so please no ‘constructive criticism’. I might cry ixD As usual i love you all so much and your comments kept me alive these last few months!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you guys. This is officially the longest fic I've ever written. 
> 
> See end notes for spoilers and a warning if you are a die hard Allison fan.

**Day 9:**

 

Lydia was on a mission. As Stiles’ stay in the hospital extended on unpredictably she had worked out a schedule that allowed both her and Jackson to go to school, take their tests, pick up homework—all of that and more while one of them was either running errands or with Stiles, depending on his father’s availability.

Today was her day at school, and she had big plans.

After finding out what Mrs McCall had done and talking it over with the Sheriff, Lydia and Jackson had agreed to avoid Scott and let the law take care of him. And she understood that. This was more than a fist fight between two best friends, more than a high school break up, it was a level of serious that shouldn’t be happening to kids in high school.

So she would leave Scott for the police to deal with. That didn’t mean she had no options at all to fuck him up. And while Stiles was the one fighting for his life in the hospital because of that dumbass, he wasn’t the only one adversely affected by Scott’s thoughtless actions.

The new girl was sitting alone at a table in the back corner of the cafeteria. After one incident earlier in the week where she had boldly picked a seat at a full table near the middle of the room and half the students had gotten up and left while the rest scooted away with giggles or glares she had stuck to herself for lunch. Scott had second block lunch so the new girl had no one else to sit with.

It wasn’t much of a surprise. Stiles was widely known and generally well liked around school, or at least a great source of entertainment for most of the students at Beacon High, and when the news of the disastrous breakup between him and Scott hit many students had the common sense to steer clear of the girl Scott latched onto. As one of the most well known mate pairs in town due to their early mate bonding, even most parents eventually found out about the bond breaking, and once rumors started about how Scott had ripped it apart many parents outright told their kids to stay away from Scott and his new flame. No one wanted the Sheriff on their ass over this.

So there was no one around to object when Lydia marched over and set herself pointedly down right beside the new girl.

“You must be Allison. I’m Lydia Martin of course. I don’t think we were formally introduced,” she said, unpacking her homemade lunch from its carefully wrapped box. Even with all the various crises going on these days there was way she would eat the sludge the school served as lunch. “I’ve heard a lot about you recently. I figured you could use a friend.”

“Oh uhh, yeah sure,” Allison stuttered, staring at Lydia with wide eyes. Lydia waited, picking up a baby carrot and examining it before taking a bite. Allison didn’t seem to have anything else to say however, and Lydia tapped her foot impatiently.

‘So,” she finally sighed, disappointed in the new girl’s lack of social skills. “If we’re going to be friends we should get to know each other a little, don’t you think?” Allison nodded rapidly in agreement but took an awkward bite of her mac and cheese instead of contributing anything. Maybe she was shy after being the focus of the school’s rumor mill for the last week, or maybe she was as gormless as Scott. Lydia hoped not, but there wasn’t much she could do about it if the girl was a moron.

“Ok, well. I suppose you could ask me about my favorite things or play twenty questions. I already know a lot about you. Actually, I’m pretty sure everyone knows a lot about you since you hooked up with Scott McCall after he assaulted his mate. But that’s old news.”

Allison’s face had fallen as Lydia spoke, a dark pout replacing the gobsmacked awkwardness from a moment ago. “That’s just a rumor,” she said, taking an angry bite of her lunch. “Scott didn’t assault anyone, he wasn’t even dating the guy.” She stabbed her noodles hard, and her tray crunched in protest.

“Oh? Is that what Scott told you? That’s really strange. He and Stiles had been mates since kindergarten, that’s why everyone was so shocked they broke up. They were quite the fairy tale couple.” She wrinkled her nose. “Of course, even if it weren’t true the rumors aren’t going to go away, not with Stiles getting out of the hospital in the next week or so. Things are sure to get heated again. Which isn’t going to be any fun for you, I’m positive.” She placed a comforting hand on Allison’s knee, patting it gently. “You’re going to be stuck right in the crossfire and there’s so much of the backstory you don’t even know. It must be awful to move to a new place and get caught in the middle of all this.”

“It's not fair.” Allison said, tearing up. “I've never even met this kid and he's ruining my life. God, why is everyone’s ex always crazy?”

Lydia took another bite of her carrot and pretended the crunch was the sound of a certain boy being punched in the jaw. She patted the corner of her mouth with a napkin.  “You know, Mate Shock is a serious medical condition. It’s not really something you can fake.”

Allison scowled down at her lunch, most of the food picked at or mashed into unidentifiable piles. “You don't really believe they were bonded do you? People don't just cut mate bonds! Especially not for girls they just met, and especially not people like Scott.” She sighed, her thoughts drifting far away. “Thank fuck for Scott. He’s just,” she trailed off and Lydia could feel her eye begin to twitch with the need to just shake the girl. “He’s so nice, you know? I know he felt super bad that everyone was dragging me into this rumor mudslide and he’s been real sweet about it, taking me out to distract me, making sure the whole grade knows he stands by me. I don’t know how he had such a psycho best friend but I can see why the guy would want to believe Scott was his mate. He’s just a good guy, you know? I’m lucky to have him, even if this does suck.”

“Oh Allison,” Lydia said with a sigh, pulling the girl into a hug that she readily accepted. The girl had no sense at all, and if she hadn’t gotten caught up in this drama Lydia had no doubt that she soon would have fallen into some other mess she couldn’t see coming if it waved a sign in her face. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty, honey, because I’m really disappointed you’re this stupid.”

She pulled back, smiling benevolently at Allison’s shocked and hurt expression. “Listen, I’ll tell you what. Since you’re the new kid I’ll cut you some slack. It’s not your fault you haven’t spent your whole life in this god forsaken town, so it’s not really your fault that you don’t know about Stiles and Scott. Although I would think logically you would at least have some doubts when the entire student body, and their parents, as well as the entire Sheriff's department, and most importantly trained medical doctors who know a hell of a lot more about _medical conditions_ like Mate Shock say that Scott broke his mate bond with Stiles, then you should probably take a moment to consider why they all think that. After all, you said it yourself. You only just met Scott. You don’t really know him and I don’t think you should be talking shit about a boy who was assaulted by his mate and is still in unstable condition in the hospital just because of some boy you just met.”

She leaned in, a perfect, ruby smile on her face. “Like I said, you need someone on your side Allison. I could be that person.” She patted the girl’s knee once again, her soft touch at odds with the ice in her eyes. “But Stiles is ten times the man Scott McCall will ever be. So don’t let me hear of you ever talking shit about him again and maybe if you smarten up we can actually be friends. You aren’t the first person McCall has fooled with his stupid dimples. Wise up. I don’t do dumb friends.”

With a snap Lydia closed her lunch box, leaving the table with a flip of her hair and a strut. Every eye in the cafeteria was on her as she left a very shocked Allison sitting alone at the table.

 

~~~~

 

**Day 10:**

 

Two days after Melissa’s surprise visit the doctors gave Stiles the bad news, his weight had dropped dangerously low due to all the vomiting and the now constant nerves that have kept his appetite nonexistent. He needs a feeding tube. This news brings on a new bout of crying and shouting, and they try one more meal with Stiles’ ardent promise that he will eat everything on his plate, which then becomes an evening spent in and out of panic attacks when it becomes clear that he simply cannot. Eventually it’s Jackson that grabs his hand, squeezing it mercilessly until Stiles calms enough to focus on breathing.

“You can hold my hand as tight as you need, so be a man about it and let them get that damned tube in,” Jackson orders and that’s that.

It’s an ordeal, but once the tube is in and they make it through the first few hours by watching baseball on Lydia’s tablet, Noah and Jackson providing enough bickering that it almost feels like Stiles is talking too, it’s not so bad. He’ll get used to the feeling of the tube, and learn to ignore the IV in his arm, just like he’s sort of getting used to having his dad around so much, and having two people nagging and joking with him instead of just one.

 

~~~~

 

**Day 11:**

 

“Here,” Noah dropped several files onto the conference table in the small meeting room at Baker and Whittemore, the lovely law office located in an old antique brick building downtown and run by Mr Whittemore and his partner.

“Copies of everything we’re throwing at them. Two restraining orders, one aggravated assault charge and arrest warrant, one accessory assault charge and endangerment of a minor and warrant, plus one complaint against the hospital for their negligence in enforcing restricted access to a patient who’s a minor and their refusal to fire Mrs. McCall for assaulting my son while he was in their care.” Noah ran his hands over his face with a deep sigh. He felt like he hadn’t slept in days, when in reality he had probably not slept this much in years. Turns out sleeping in a hospital room while your son struggles to breathe in the bed next to you and all you can think about is how thin his mother looked in the end isn't the most restful situation. “Jesus, I’m going to have to get him transferred to another hospital, aren’t I? Those fuckers.”

“Cutting right to the chase then?” Mr. Whittemore put down the coffee he had been sipping when the Sheriff came marching in, but he wasn’t that unhappy about it. He picked up the top file, flipping through it with an appreciative hum. “I hope you intend to press full charges. It’s no good letting young men like this fester, he might think he could get away with it again next time his dick finds someone interesting.”

Noah winced. “Let’s not talk about anyone’s underage dick, alright? And yes, I’m handing the case over to a loan officer from Rivers County. I want this as clean and fair as we can make it, so it’s not going to anyone in my department who might muddy the waters when the accusations of prejudice start flying round.”

“Excellent. Thorough as always Sheriff. I’m glad to hear you’re taking a firm stance with your son. I know it’s not easy to drag personal issues like this into the light, especially when it’s your child involved.” He flipped through the files carefully, making a few notes on his phone as a secretary brought a thankful Noah a cup of coffee.

“How’s your boy doing?” Mr Whittemore asked as Noah leaned back in his seat, a blissful look on his face as he savored the caffeine. “He seemed stable at least, last time I saw him, but Jackson is going through one of those “sharing your life with your parents us uncool” phases and getting him to talk is like pulling teeth.”

“We had a setback. He,” Noah paused, the bitter sting of Melissa’s actions still such a shock. “We had a bad encounter with some of the other parties involved in this mess.”

“I see, hence the restraining orders?”

“Exactly.”

“That’s too bad. Your boy’s a fighter though. I have no doubt about that. He’ll get through this and soon be madder than a riled hornet’s nest and ready to wreak havoc on Beacon Hills once again.”

Noah nodded, willing himself to believe that. “Thank you for letting your son keep Stiles company. I know he’s missing a lot of school for it, but we’re grateful. Somedays I worry Stiles is only keeping it together because Jackson and that Martin girl are there to pull him out of his head.”

It was true. With the feeding tube in and the fever up Stiles wasn’t really able to talk. Noah did his best to fill the silence when he could, telling his son what the deputies were up to and moaning over the diet he was trying his best to stick to in his son’s absence. But he had to admit, it unnerved him to have his son so quiet, so he sometimes veered into nervous chatter just to fill the void.

Sometimes he hated Scott, a real, violent rage that his son was taken from them all this way because of him, taken even from himself as Stiles was removed from his own life, unable to talk, unable to leave the hospital. Trapped in his own body.

“I’m sure you help him too Sheriff. Nothing more reassuring than having your old man at your back.” Mr Whittemore said kindly.

“Yeah, but you know teenagers. Like you said, it’s not really cool to share all you’re dark teenage angst with your parents.”

“You know, the missus and I have a little get together every Thursday night for light drinks and a quiet dinner. You’re part of the club too now that your Stiles has been assimilated into whatever they all have going on. You should join us. We have a great time moaning about the youth of today and gossiping about the other PTA members.”

Noah lowered his cup, truly surprised. He cleared his throat. “Well, that’s kind of you to offer. I would have thought you would rather give me a kick in the nuts than go out for dinner but I do appreciate it.”

Mr Whittemore laughed, shaking his head as he pulled out his phone. “Now Sheriff, that would be unprofessional of me! I might allow myself a petty shoulder clip on the way out the door if I was so inclined, but I’m not. Let me send you May’s number and she can set dinner up. Lord knows I never argue with my wife over what she’s craving for dinner at any given time. If you’re really worried about it we can wait till this assault nonsense is all squared away. Just to be sure we can work together without any violence, eh?”

“Sounds good,” Noah said weakly, leaning back again and taking another sip of coffee. He closed his eyes, letting the aroma sooth him. His life had gotten so strange these last few days, but he couldn’t say it was all for the worst if he got coffee like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! I'm not nice to Allison in this chapter. I don't completely write her off but yeah, be aware.
> 
> Next: the moment you've all been waiting for....


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is, the chapter that was the first thing I wrote for this fic. The chapter that was supposed to be chapter 2 but got pushed aside for all the hospital drama that has made this story what it is today.  
> I'm sick as a dog guys so I hope this makes sense. As always, check the tags for content warnings and the notes if you are confused about the way wolves work in this AU. I am going to go die now. I can't believe how long this chapter was. I added so many words its longer than half the fics I have posted on this damn site. *coughs pathetically*

It was supposed to be a right of passage, all the way up there with sweet 16 birthday parties and finally getting your driver's license. Once you hit 18 you’re free to apply to the Alpha of your choice and become part of a Pack. A family. To find your forever home. 

Your Alpha was supposed to be your protector. They would guide you in personal matters, and stand by you in public. They were the caretakers of orphans and those down on their luck. All fostering fell under their jurisdiction and a big chunk of tax money was allocated to each Alpha according to the size of their Pack. It was like having the government for your parent, and the idea was that no one was lost in a society that remained Pack. 

Theoretically.

Of course, reality being what it was the whole concept had devolved from family bonds to what basically amounted to a lightly-binding form of legal protection with someone you often didn’t know any better than your senator or congressperson and a barely there warm-fuzzy feeling in the back of your mind, due to one obvious fact; there were only so many Alphas to go around.

Only true wolf families, with a high concentration of old-world wolf genetics, could actually produce an Alpha- an individual with the ability to form and hold Pack Bonds, the only kind of bond as binding as a mate bond. With the majority of the population being almost fully human or half-were, with the weakened senses to prove it, kids pretty much knew to take what they could get Alpha-wise.

In Beacon Hills that meant Hales. 

There were three Alphas in Beacon Hills, each with their own issues and scary good looks. 

Talia Hale, iron fisted tyrant and overbearing mother type, was the matriarch of the Hale family. For many reasons she wasn’t a popular choice with the high school crowd, the least of which being that most of the adults in Beacon Hills fell under her, to the point that she had an army of secretaries to deal with all legal issues that needed an Alpha’s attention. Falling under the same jurisdiction as your parents wasn’t exactly a recipe for fun times.

“Talia is a fair woman,” Noah had told his son, passing him a wet dish to dry. “Of course I’ve had more contact with the Alpha than most, being the Sheriff. If you picked her you most likely wouldn’t see her outside of weddings and holidays,” he stopped, squinting ahead with a pained expression. “Or not. I forgot who I was talking to. If Talia was your Alpha I’m sure you’d be on her personal shit list within the week. You did egg her car that one time.”

“Oh yeah!” Stiles grinned at the memory. It had been the first week of high school and Jackson had double dog dared him to egg the Alpha’s new Mercedes. He told the whole school Stiles would be too chicken to do it, and Stiles had retaliated by egging not only Talia’s car, but also every car present for the Back to School PTA meeting they had gathered for. “Don’t worry daddio. No one was ever pinned down for that glorious bit of vandalism. I’m sure she won't hold it against us.” He shot finger guns at Noah, almost dropping the plate he had been drying and banging his elbow on the counter in his fumble to save it.

“We’re doomed,” Noah muttered, rolling his eyes heavenward.

Laura Hale was the next option down for those in need of an Alpha. Talia’s oldest child, she was vastly more popular for the younger crowd than her mother, if you enjoyed a cutthroat environment and a social climbing-everyone-for-themselves kinda of group. With Laura you could make it far, but at the cost of always watching your back. She wasn’t one for mediating arguments, but she wasn’t someone to cross either. 

“She’s hot,” Jackson commented from the sofa, idly flipping through a comic Stiles had left on the coffee table and making faces at it occasionally. “But hot Hales are a dime a dozen. I don’t want someone who’s up my ass all the time. There’s enough of that going around already.”

Lydia and Stiles both leered at him, and his ear tips pinkened as he raised the comic to cover his face. 

“Assholes,” he muttered, ignoring their giggling at his embarrassment. 

The last choice was Derek Hale. Socially awkward but blessed with the body of a god, Derek was both hands off and no pressure. In short, he was kind of clueless as to how leadership worked. He was pretty much only an Alpha because he was cute enough to have a fanclub when  he was in high school.

“Derek Hale once body slammed me into a wall because I showed him a caterpillar I had found by the school entrance and pretended I was returning his escaped eyebrow to him,” Stiles said, frowning down at his math homework before sighing and grabbing his stubby eraser. He hated factoring with matrices. It made his brain sad. 

“So what? I body slammed you a few weeks ago because you passed the ball to Greenburg. You just have an aura that screams ‘Hit Me I’m A Dick’.” 

Lydia glared at both of them and snatched the eraser out of Stiles’ hand. “I’ll body slam both of you into a wall if you don’t shut up. I can’t concentrate and I refuse to get in this stupid class just because Stiles has a masochistic side.” 

Both boys slunk down in their spots, exchanging a look of aroused fear as she attacked her paper with the eraser.

So that’s how it was, and Pledge day was here for Beacon High seniors to suffer through and enjoy in equal measures. 

The Pledge was being held at the main Hale house this year due to slightly smaller than average turn out. It would be a tight fit getting all this years teens into one space, but not an impossible challenge.

Stiles had been out of the hospital for three weeks by the time Pledge day arrived, having opted to home school through Beacon High’s online program rather than force his still fragile body out of bed and over to school every day. His father hadn’t been happy about it, but even with past experience telling Stiles it was because Noah was annoyed with him being a bother, Stiles could tell it was more due to the fact that no one was comfortable with the idea of him being home alone for any extended amount of time. 

Honestly, Stiles had come so close to passing on the Pledge this year. Ever since he left the hospital there had been the feeling of being held together with string and a prayer. The physical symptoms of the broken bond had faded, leaving his body ravaged and weak. The mental wounds left him feeling broken and emotionally on the cusp. Like an angry and hollow husk of himself. He vacillated between feelings of acceptance and betrayal when he thought of his former family, and he spent too much time clinging to the people he had left like they would disappear if he couldn’t see or touch them every minute of the day.

He was giving this thing with Lydia and Jackson a chance. More than a chance really. Date night with the pair, full of food and new movies -with nothing familiar that might remind him of other date nights with another boy- were the highlight of his life these days. They had both opted to attend school regularly again, Lydia leaving him with dark threats should he opt to wallow in his bed instead of getting his online work done, Jackson only shrugging and saying if he did wallow he had better get himself dressed and showered before they came over for the evening because even his cute mouth couldn’t make up for body odor. But even as they got back to their own lives they managed to include him through texting and photos, and Stiles was man enough to admit he wouldn’t delete a single damn message from them due to the warm fuzzies he got every time his phone pinged.

So Stiles did his best and got out of bed every day. His father was around more too, having adjusted his schedule so that he could spend most mornings home, if only to force some breakfast into his son, who’s still reluctant and upset stomach would otherwise be left empty. His appetite hadn’t returned, but with the nausea gone Stiles was able to force food down when needed to keep his weight up. He tried, really. Even when the only thing keeping him from dumping his toast in the garbage and hiding in his room was his father’s worried frown he tried his hardest.

He still didn’t trust this change in routine. Sure, his dad was here now and probably would be for another week or so until Stiles was fully back into the swing of life again. But there was always something lurking in town to draw the police's attention, and Stiles wasn’t convinced that this new, attentive version of his hard working father would stick around in the face of a serious crime spree. Still, it was nice for now, even if he did hate breakfast with a passion.

At least having his father around in the mornings kept his mind off things.

He wasn’t stupid. Word had spread through the city like wildfire when Scott had been brought in under assault charges. Stiles hadn’t even needed to go poking around to hear all the gossip on that incident. All it took was one grocery run to hear enough pieces of the story to know that Scott and Melissa both had been taken in, and that Scott’s father had actually come into town to post bail for them. Shaken, Stiles had abandoned his cart somewhere near the cereal aisle and spent a good ten minutes trying not to hyperventilate in the parking lot. He made his dad buy the groceries that week, and refused all other attempts at cajoling him outside the house for chores.

He wasn’t surprised exactly. He knew that his father wasn’t happy with Scott, he just hadn’t realized his dad would actually do anything about it. But it made sense, and Stiles was only left wondering how long his dad would be able to put off getting a statement from his son about the incident. He assumed that he had been left alone so far under the guise of ‘recovery time’. It would have to be soon though, if his dad was intent on pushing charges. Stiles just didn’t want to think about it.

Hence the Pledge, and the whole reason Stiles, Lydia, and Jackson were standing side by side in Talia Hale’s living room with a bunch of other teenagers milling about in their Sunday best like awkward prom dates.

What better way to not think about drama then by stirring up bigger drama?

There was a sharp clap of hands and all eyes in the room turned anxiously to see Alpha Talia stride purposefully into the room. Alright everyone,” she said, waving a severe looking woman over to a long table that had been set up with stacks of forms and cups of generic pens.

“Thank you all for coming today, I hope you’re all excited for the Pledge? I promise everything gets more fun after we get all the paperwork out of the way.” She beamed around at them with the  hundred watt glow of a politician’s smile. “On that note I hope you all remembered to bring your IDs! Remember we need two sets of photo ID and one piece of mail confirming your home address.”

Half the attendees started patting at their belongings in various states of panic and Stiles felt his eye twitch. He was chronically incapable of giving baristas at Starbucks non tv persona names to call, hell he even went by a nickname created from his last name. Official government forms made his skin crawl. All that pen. Anything he ever filled out ended up covered in a void of black scribbles and cross-outs.

“I’m so glad we are giving up a perfectly good weekend for this,” Jackson growled, glaring away a few boys from the lacrosse team who looked like they might want to make small talk. “If it’s just going to be a bunch of boring busy work then why do we all have to be here? It would be more efficient to do it at city hall or something.”

“It’s all for show,” Lydia observed softly, one brow raised at where Talia was herding Derek into a seat near the center of the room. “It might be the expected, boring thing to join a Pack these days but heaven forbid we forget that the Alpha is doing us a favor by granting us their time and attention.”

“It fucking sucks,” Stiles chirped happily, the itch to say ‘screw this’ growing at an alarming rate. Maybe he was about to have another mental breakdown? Ugh, he hoped not. He was sick of crying and making a fool of himself. He bounced on the balls of his feet, purposefully avoiding making eye contact with anyone their age in the room.

That was when he spotted a familiar body leaning oh so casually against the door frame to the kitchen. Bingo. 

Stiles shot out an arm, nailing Jackson in the kidney. The older boy gave an annoyed grunt, catching the still flailing arm as it continued to smack at him.

“Use your words Stiles,” Lydia said, side eyeing the pair as they wrestled. “Ugh, why is this the only Pledge they could bother to arrange this year? Our whole class is here.” She gave the room at large a sweeping, narrow eyed once over, causing a pair of boys to practically jump up from the couch they had been sitting on, scrambling nervously toward the lacrosse team guys.

“Who the fuck cares? We are pearls among swine.” Stiles declared, still staring toward the kitchen as Lydia lead him through the room by the arm.

A few of the teens in the room looked affronted as Stiles hadn’t bothered to keep his voice down, but they kept their thoughts to themselves as Jackson helped Lydia settle on the now free couch before Stiles plopped onto the other free space and pulled him down to sit with them. Weeks out of the hospital and he still had dizzy spells where his already not-so controlled limbs turned more noodley than usual. Sitting was safer for everyone, but especially safer for Stiles’ dignity. 

“They probably packed us in like sardines today so we would be a compliant bunch of puppies, all nervous from our combined anxiety stench.”

He wasn’t just pulling that out of his ass either. Talia liked to make sure she was always one step ahead of everyone. Derek likely wasn't malicious about crowding everyone in for one Pledge, he just wasn't that good at big event planning. He was a bit notorious for it actually, and the disaster that was last year’s wedding of Derek’s second that ended up in a small riot over the lack of food at the reception was still the source of constant ribbing for anyone in his Pack. Unfortunately, Laura was not in town this month to take Pledgers, which caused quite a bit of complaining from the younger residents of Beacon Hills as it really cut into the prospects of this years teens, but it was what it was.   

“Luckily,” Stiles continued, wiggling around to get comfortable until Jackson growled at him and grabbed his thigh to stop the fidgeting. “Jax is too arrogant for nerves and you, lovely Lydia light of my loins, never smell less than a perfect, fresh picked daisy.” 

Lydia huffed, but her eyes showed amusement at his antics. “And you? What’s keeping you safe from going crazy at the smell of teenage awkwardness?”

“My secret power is always being in a constant state of hyper-anxiety, so this is just another Thursday for me.” He wrinkled his nose as another ring of the doorbell admitted Allison and a few other strangers also from their school. 

Ever since Scott had gotten arrested Allison had been doing her best to fly under the radar at school and around town. Word on the street was that the elder Argents were practically baying for Scott’s blood as news of his shenanigans with their daughter had finally reached their ears. 

Another glance toward the kitchen solidified a plan in Stiles mind. If he was going to do crazy he was going to go big or go home.

“Just follow me to the promised land, ok? Because I am a genius, and this genius is going to save us from a doom and gloom future as part of the Axe body spray pack.”

“Whatever. I guess you can’t make it any worse than this,” Lydia said, closing her purse with a snap. 

Jackson sighed, letting his head fall back against the couch dramatically. “I’m trusting you. Emo is not my style and there’s no way in hell I'm giving up on shaving to join the burly biker gang. Laura was a bitch but at least she had style. If you have a plan to fix this then please, do it.”

Stiles grinned, “I’ll make sure to remind you that you gave me your full blessing to do this when you’re whining about it later.”

“Ok everybody!” Alpha Talia was using her pep rally voice and it was giving Stiles horrific flashbacks to his dad’s first campaign for Sheriff. So many awkward photos and speeches. Stiles had not been a good looking toddler. He had looked more like a filthy gremlin child than an upstanding future voter. 

“It’s time to get started. I’m sure you all have have some idea already of which Pack you would like to join,” she said as if there were vast options and like they all hadn’t read the same old information packet that every person in Beacon Hills got when they turned 18 and had been getting since the early 80's. “Just to make sure we are all on the same page we’re going to start this off with a quick introduction. My name is Talia Hale, and I’ve been an Alpha here in Beacon Hills for about oh, quite a while now I suppose!” 

There was an awkward silence at this. Some of the girls were smiling like they weren’t sure if they were allowed to laugh at the joke or not. Most of the boys were still awkwardly checking their bags for lost IDs and eyeing the snack table. 

“Now, I know most of your parents are in my Pack, and I want you to know that as Alpha I endeavor to treat each of my pack members as full fledged individuals. So don’t worry about your parents calling me up to ground you or anything.” Strained laughter bubbled up around the room, and Stiles was refusing to make eye contact with Jackson. He was dead meat if he did because there was no way he would be able to hold back the donkey bray of hilarity that was fighting to burst forth. One look at Jackson’s constipated face would shatter his self control.

He had missed the rest of Talia’s speech trying to hold it together, but his attention was drawn back by Derek Hale’s eyebrows of doom. 

“Hi. My name’s Derek,” Derek said stiffly. Stiles breathed in, ready to intone “Hi Derek” like an AA meeting attendee, but Lydia intercepted him with a vicious pinch to the ribs. Jeez. He really needed to get the brand of the nail strengthener stuff she used because ouch. Powerful. 

Luckily for them all Derek had about three sentences in him before he glanced beseechingly at his mother and Talia dutifully took the reins and ended his ‘speech’. 

“Alright, now that you know a little bit about us here’s how it’s going to work. You will choose which Pack you would like to join and you will fill out this form. Print clearly please! We have extra forms if you need it. After the forms are all filled in we will form two queues, one for myself and one for Derek’s pack, and we will begin the Pledges, after which each of you will get a signed copy of your forms and we will begin making copies of your IDs. Now,” she held up a hand to halt a few panicked kids who looked a little green. “Don’t worry about the Pledge. It’s not as scary as tv makes it out to be.  You are allowed to read the Pledge if you don’t have it memorized so please, take a deep breath and just enjoy the moment. This is a big step for all of you, and we want everyone to feel happy with their choice and experience today. So remember, deep breaths, and have fun, ok?”

“I want to get off this ride,” Jackson muttered, shoving his face into Stiles neck and grumbling something unintelligible into his shirt collar. Stiles snorted and patted his head consolingly a few times as Lydia took a stack of papers handed to her by the sneering secretary woman and began filling the forms in for all of them. Stiles focused on cuddling the bad temper out of Jackson and answering whatever Lydia needed for their information, only shoving the boy off when Lydia finished the last form with a definite click of her pen. 

“Time to make bad life choices!” he chirped in a mimicry of Talia, and pushed himself up from the couch. He cracked his neck, or at least rolled his head and shoulders around like an action hero on the big screen. He liked to imagine it was a perfect copy of James Bond walking off explosions and torture. Too bad he didn’t have cufflinks to adjust. Or cuffs. Or even a nice button up shirt that didn’t come from Walmart. Anyway, it was showtime. Holding out his hands he pulled his wary boyfriend and girlfriend to their feet before marching confidently over to the person who had been lurking in the doorway since the start of the meeting. 

“Alpha Hale,” he said, stopping exactly on the edge of the older man’s personal bubble and tilting his head just enough to show a little skin. Never let it be said he wasn’t aware of his best assets. “My name is Stiles Stilinski. These beautiful people are my partners, Jackson Whittemore  and Lydia Martin. We would be honored if you would accept our Pledge to you today.”

The room went so silent that for a second, Stiles thought everyone’s hearts had stopped. 

There was a thing about Alphas. A secret if you will, hidden in the open for anyone with half a brain to notice if they only stopped and thought a moment. And that was that the only real requirements to become an Alpha was that you must have strong blood and enough people willing to follow you, to bind themselves to you. 

Peter Hale had the blood by any stretch of the imagination. Talia’s youngest brother, Peter had been born well after Talia was already half grown. Gossip being what it was the truth of why he never became an Alpha in his own right was buried under so many near mythical rumors of murder, scandal, and early childhood trauma that the real story likely would have to come from the man himself if it were to be known. Whatever the reason, the facts of the matter were that Peter Hale had grown up in his sister’s Pack, had been shipped off to college somewhere prestigious and remote, and had been shipped back with a shiny new law degree, thousand dollar suits, a bloodthirsty reputation, and had immediately been set to work building an empire for Talia and her children. He had his fingers in every pie in town and was generally worked to the bone keeping everything the three Alphas owned functioning smoothly. Possibly with the help of murder and properly greased political ties held together with blackmail and scandal. No one was really sure, and no one was brave enough to ask.

In other words, he was perfect.

“I think you’re confused. I’m not an Alpha.” Peter’s face was blank, his eyes sharp as ice. It burned with coldly curious intensity, and Stiles met it with his most shit eating grin.

“Would you like to be?”

 

 

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

(Boom! Peter's finally here bitches!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, I'm sick. I've been sick for over a week and no end in sight. Unfortunately this next week is going to be UNBELIEVABLY STRESSFUL so I probably wont have the next chapter up till sometime week after next. Sorry guys! I love you all and I hope you are looking forward to Peter now that he finally got his ass in the fic.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blerrrrrhhhhhhhhhhhhgggggggg this is short. sorry friends. Im full of phlegm and just can't even.

When Talia had demanded his assistance with signing on new Pack at this year’s Pledge, Peter had expected a long day of boredom and the discomfort of having to interact with and smell dozens of nervous high schoolers. 

His own pledge had been just as uncomfortable, and slightly more illegal, as he had been underaged and coerced at the time. Talia had still been furious with him and the Pledge itself had been over with as fast as it took to sign the documents and ship him off to the east coast for “extended training” with the Blackwell pack. 

Not that he had been in any better mood. 

Seething rage over the injustice of it all had driven him, head held high, out the door and through every challenge that the Blackwell Pack had thrown at him and more. Spite and a burning sense of the rightness of his choice had pushed him day and night to become an unstoppable force. He and his might live away from home at the order of his Alpha, but he would go to school too, earning his law degree and passing the bar in several states in record time and with his own money, not a penny would he accept from his sister. He would return to Beacon Hills likewise at his Alpha’s order, but he would not live in the Pack house with his sister and her family. No, he had a comfortable apartment downtown and did most of his work far from Talia’s always bitter eye. He kept his private life private and never gave Talia a leg to stand on when it came to complaining about the quality of his work for the Pack. 

Yes, he made his own choices about his life. No one had yet figured out a way to make Peter do something he did not want to do.

So he was glad that he hadn’t found anything better to do with his morning than to drop by to see which pups in Beacon Hills were becoming adults today and who would be kissing ass to his family this year.

It had been a genuine and delightful surprise to find himself the focus of attention this Pledge day. He considered the look of gobsmacked horror on Talia’s face as the deliciously edible twink and his preppy, nubile companions, offered him Alphahood on a silver platter as good as an early birthday present.

He might have written them off regardless. After all, he hadn’t started the day with the intention of becoming Alpha, no matter how amusing this whole situation was shaping out to be, but these pups intrigued him and it didn’t exactly conflict with his plans for the future, so much as it simply changed up the timeline a bit.

At first glance the group appeared to be just an average set of spoiled, rich teens with better than average looks, a combination that usually leads to idiocy and arrogance in his experience. Peter had no interest in children who thought the world should fall at their feet just because they were the most popular students in a hormone ridden, pubescent bunch.

But this was something different, although whether it was worthwhile to him was yet to be seen. All the signs were there. There was that fast, easy smirk and the casual disregard of two of the most powerful people in the county. An easy slide into the stinking group of 18 year olds, backs angled ever so slightly toward each other as they presented a united front, masks on and words cutting. 

Peter prided himself on his observational skills, and always made sure to take a second look at everything around him, especially if it was, as he readily admitted, an above averagely attractive and wealthy group of just-barely young adults promising him power and a chance to screw over his sister.

He couldn’t say he was uninterested.

“This is completely unacceptable behavior,” Talia was scolding the threesome, her secretary shooing the group down the hall towards the Alpha’s private study. “I knew you were a troublemaker Mr. Stilinski but I hardly thought you would be so callous as to attempt to ruin what should be one of the most important days of your classmates lives with your pranks.”

Peter slipped into the room behind the group, always a step behind, always separate and to the side. He circled around behind Talia, the view from the edge of the office offering a full view of the shiteating smile the Stilinski boy gave her as the trio of teens settled onto the various chairs in the room, uncaring that Talia and her assistant remained standing. 

“I have no idea what you mean, Alpha Talia.” Stiles Stilinski, as he had introduced himself only moments before, was obviously more than prepared to rise to any challenge Talia hoped to throw at him. “As far as I know you’ve never even spoken to me outside of that wild and rather unsubstantiated claim you made attempting to frame me for the egging of the PTA meeting a few years ago.”

Peter remembered that day. He had come along with Talia for the PTA meeting with the intent to make a few bureaucrats piss themselves over what they had let happen to Derek on their watch. He had been on the warpath even as his Alpha was set on mending bridges and sweeping the whole thing under the rug rather than making heads roll for their crimes. 

Not a single student would admit to the crime or give up the name of anyone involved. Peter was oddly touched by their loyalty, and absolutely proud of the straight up snark and crude disrespect the teens heaped on those adults who had been victims of “The Great Egging” as it was soon known around town. It was good to know that at least some of the children knew that these adults weren’t to be trusted. That they could spit on them while looking elsewhere for guidance and protection, even if they had no one but themselves to fall back on in the end. 

“Excuse me?” Talia was livid, her back stiff and a faint, red glow beginning to show in her eyes. “I know you think this is a game but you don’t get to just come in here, into the home that we have graciously opened to you, and make ridiculous demands like this. It’s childish, and I expect a formal apology from you and your companions before I will even consider letting you reapply for Pack membership with Derek or myself.”

“I’m sorry,” this from the girl, a meticulously styled beauty with a cutting look in her eye, “I think you’re confused. I don’t really see where you got the idea that we care what you think or why we would need to do anything for  _ you _ . It’s Peter we are offering the Pledge to, not you or your son.” She gave Talia a pitying look, as if she thought Talia really had somehow misunderstood the situation. That wasn’t it at all of course, and everyone in the room knew it. Peter had always been a delicate subject for Talia, and she didn’t appreciate all the control she didn’t have over his actions being brought out in the open. “In fact, the only reason we are even humoring you now is because this is the communal Hale Pack house, despite your shockingly ungracious and slightly unhinged response to something that barely concerns you. Believe me, we would not be wasting our time talking to you otherwise. I think we have been fairly respectful in light of your inappropriate interference in our Pledge day.”

Peter leaned his ass casually against the desk, savoring the way Talia ground her teeth at the girl’s words. This really was one of those moments that made life worth living.

“You can’t do that. Peter isn’t an Alpha. As I am sure you are well aware my brother doesn’t have a Pack, and as such he isn’t accepting Pledges.” Talia looked one second away from threatening to send them all to their rooms. “Now, I won’t stand to be spoken to like this anymore. You’ve disgraced the ceremony enough. I will be notifying your parents and I think Derek will agree that we will not be accepting any of you into our Packs today, or possibly ever after such behavior as you have shown.”

The blond boy rolled his eyes so hard Peter wondered if he might pull a muscle. “Lady, I think you’re the one wasting everybody’s time here. We already told you, Peter Hale is the Alpha we are offering the Pledge to. And he’s the one who gets to answer, not you,” he deliberately glared at Peter, ignoring Talia’s hissed intake of breath at his nerve. “Your sister is crazy, but Stiles thinks you’re our Alpha, so do you want our Pledge or not?”

“He can’t!” Talia shouted, looking positively apoplectic. Her secretary scurried out of the room, no doubt to make sure no one in the house was close enough to hear the screaming, raging Alpha lose her shit. “Peter is not an Alpha, and he never will be. Get out of my house!”

“Why can’t he be?” Derek asked, startling his mother out of her tirade and surprising the teens, who had probably forgotten he was there. Talia had a way of commanding attention that tended to make people around her fade into the background, and Derek was nothing if not the champion of wallflower behavior. 

“Uncle Peter’s a Hale, a functioning adult with a stable business and a steady income, not to mention life experience.” Derek’s voice was monotone, but his point was brought across in the bland manor of its delivery. “He has the right blood and more than enough means to support it, which is more than I had when you were dead set on convincing me it was ok to become an Alpha and take on all this responsibility.” Derek shrugged as his mother gaped open mouthed at his daring. Derek never spoke to anyone like this. He was a grumpy shadow that communicated in eyebrows and grunts, not confrontation. “Peter is a great candidate for Alpha, and if these kids want to Pledge it’s perfectly legal for them to do it. Don’t make this a big fight. It’s embarrassing and you’ll definitely lose if Uncle Peter wants to do it.”

Peter was shocked, and a little touched, deep deep in his cold heart. Just a little. He would have to give Derek a hug someday. Preferably when he least expected or wanted it. 

“Look,” the girl, Lydia, gave an elegant sigh that conveyed exactly how tired she was of the whole conversation. “No disrespect to you Alpha Talia, but even if you weren’t the awkward ‘parent’ Alpha, everyone knows that you’ve over reached these last few years and are spread far too thin to really help individuals in your pack. Your brother has been doing the heavy lifting for your family for years.” She waved off Talia’s indignant protest with a casual flick of her wrist. “I’m not saying it’s your fault, although your behavior today doesn’t do you any credit. It's just the facts, known to anyone. If you’re the kind of person who cares to listen to facts.”

“Derek’s actually the best choice of the three of you,” the blond boy said, leaning back in his chair with all the casual air of someone who knows they are untouchable. If he was related to the Whittemore that Peter knew then he had every right to be, especially with what Peter was positive was the only son of the Sheriff and a shockingly wealthy young lady as his partners. 

“According to most of Beacon Hills, convincing your son to accept Pledges was the best thing you’ve done for the county in  _ years _ . Laura’s pack was a social death sentence for most high schoolers, but there wasn't much of a choice really. Live under your parents forever or risk getting stabbed in the back because Alpha Laura thinks it’s funny. At least with her pack you stood a chance of getting out on your own.”

“We would have joined Derek’s pack if Stiles wasn’t a crazy risk taker,” Lydia said. “Boring jocks are better than a pack that exists to tear you down, no offense Derek.”

Derek gave a truly impressive eyeroll. If there was anything Peter admired about his nephew it was his expressive eyebrows. “I grew up with Laura. You think I don’t know how scary she is? Just because I want to keep my head down and enjoy sports doesn’t mean I’m stupid. I make sure my Pack is safe from her games by keeping us uninteresting and under her radar. Keeps life simple.”

Even Peter was staring at him in shock now, and Derek’s ears began to turn red as his scowl became positively threatening. The blond boy nudged Stiles, who groaned and patted Lydia in turn, fishing his wallet out and passing the other boy ten bucks as the girl scowled and did the same.

“I told you guys. Jocks can be sneaky too,” Whittemore said with a smirk, tucking his winnings into his jeans.

“No offense Derek,” Stiles said with a side eye for the older boy, almost as if he expected to be on the receiving end of a swirly very soon. “You do you and all that. We just don’t see our thing meshing well with your thing, if you get me.”

It was clear that Derek did not get him in the least, but the tired sigh he huffed out indicated he was used to that.

“He means you couldn’t handle me even if you wanted to,” Lydia said, taking pity on the Alpha. “And Jackson doesn’t play well with other jocks.”

“And Stiles?” Peter asked when it seemed she wouldn’t go on. All eyes in the room turned to look at him. “What’s Stiles issue with Talia or Derek’s Packs?” 

He truly wanted to know. This was highly entertaining, watching his sister get torn to shreds by a bunch of high school seniors. And if he was going to be their Alpha then, well, he should know all he could about his Pack members. It was only natural to be curious. 

“I don’t want someone who will spy on me for my dad, and Derek is a big softie and heart. My dad would have him reporting back on my every move in no time.”

Peter considered this fair enough. Derek was kind enough to stand up to his mother for his uncle’s sake after all, and if that didn’t scream bleeding heart he didn’t know what did. 

“And Talia? Your father is already part of her Pack isn’t he?” Obviously that would put a cramp in the boy’s style, especially with his father already being the Sheriff. That couldn’t have been an easy thing for such a troublemaker to grow up under. Peter greatly hoped the boy wasn’t big on daddy issues. That sort of thing was better left to the bedroom, not Pack interactions or influencing important life choices.

Stiles just gave him a disappointed look. “Don’t be stupid. It’s too early in our relationship to show you my annoyed side.”

Peter smirked back, resisting the urge to bat his eyes at the boy. Mockery and flirting had its place, but as fun as it would be to push his sister there were better games afoot at the moment. Maybe it was time to bump up some plans. It would be good to have trustworthy Pack around again, and he had been itching to get work started on that bit of mountain land he had snatched up last summer. An Alpha needed a seat of power after all, and he had ambitions for a winter lodge that he’d been sitting on since undergrad. At the very least having Pack members who were connected to city hall would help smooth things along when it came time to get permits set up for the construction to begin. 

Mind made up he pulled out his phone, sending off a quick text to his mother in law, informing her of a possible change in future living plans. Nothing would be decided until he could be sure of these new pups, but he liked their bite and they seemed to know what they were looking for. He would keep her in the know until it was time to float questions of a ticket home. 

“Alright then,” He said, tucking his phone away with a flourish and ignoring the daggers his sister was sending his way with her glare. “I accept your Pledge. Let’s move this to a more comfortable location, shall we? All this arguing has me a bit peckish and it might take a bit of time for my secretary to send in the proper paperwork for this. Steaks anyone? My treat of course.”

“Peter, you can’t just walk out with these children-” Talia was close to raging again but she was cut off before she got any momentum going.

“Adults actually,” Lydia cut in primly. “We’re 18. If I were to kill anyone in this room I would be tried and sentenced as an adult, so I think I’m perfectly capable of making the choice to go out to eat lunch with my future Alpha. What do you think boys?

“Yeah, ditto on the murder and steak options,” Stiles said, slumping in his seat and rubbing his stomach. “I vote Rhodey’s Grill. They have those crazy spicy shrimp starters and I haven’t been since dad’s birthday. Jax?”

Jackson shot Talia an unimpressed look. “I think it's far more illegal to hold three legal adults in your home against their will, unless you were implying we aren't legal adults who get to make their own choices and were implying that you were trying to bind minors with blood oaths to your pack. Also hell yes Rhodey’s, especially if our Alpha is buying.”

“Shall we?” Peter asked, walking around to offer a hand to Lydia, who took it with a straight face and upturned nose.

“Yes, indubitably,” Stiles said, jumping to his feet and offering his hand to Jackson with a dramatic flourish. Jackson snorted, smacking the hand away, but Peter noticed with interest that as soon as he was on his feet he hooked an arm around Stiles as if to steady the boy.

They exited the office with no further objections, but the burning feeling of his sister’s eyes on the back of his head told Peter that this wasn’t over yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still so sick. This chapter could suck donkey balls and I would have no idea. Also if you think Peter has lots of mysterious shit going down then ding dong you are absolutely correct friends. I hope I wrote him ok, I want to do him justice but I read some really great fics recently that like, hot damn, what dark lord do I have to sacrifice to so that I can make good words happen like that?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. I'm not sick anymore. Work is a pain in my ass tho. Sorry this is so late!

Rhodey’s Grill was more of a classy date kind of restaurant than a business lunch location, so Stiles wasn’t surprised that their little group turned more than a few heads on the street when they pulled up in Jackson’s Porsche and Peter’s positively drool-worthy Shelby, especially when it wasn’t a group of 40 year old saggy ass business men who exited the vehicles and headed inside.

With Stiles’ luck word of this spontaneous meal out would get back to the Sheriff’s department within the hour. He hoped he at least got to order dessert before his dad sent in the swat team to bust his ass. He bet Rhodey’s triple chocolate cake would taste even better when he wasn’t the one paying for it.

Lydia had drove over with Peter, and there was a pleasant smile on her face when Peter came round to open her door and help her out. That was a good sign, probably. Lydia was perfectly capable of smiling and charming the pants off the stupidest asshole, but Stiles liked to believe that if Peter was a terrible mistake then Lydia would have come out of the car ready to claw Stiles eyes out for getting them into this mess. Thus far her nails remained blissfully free of blood and it looked like steaks and negotiations were still a go.

Inside the restaurant was quiet, soft lighting with just a hint of music to muffle outside noise. There were only a few tables filled with late lunchers and the staff were quick to get them seated, popping up before the bell above the door had stopped tinkling.

“Could we get a private table please?” Peter asked, flashing a charming smile at the waitress, who nodded eagerly, grabbing a stack of menus and gesturing for them to follow.

“Of course. This way please,” she said, leading them through the main room to a back corner table, far from other diners. 

Peter pulled out a chair for Lydia, who gave him a bland smile before turning to Stiles. “Come here, sit before you faint,” she said, and gently but firmly pushing him down into the seat. She gave Peter a challenging look but their future Alpha just stepped back with hands raised in surrender. Stiles would have been embarrassed about it but he was too thankful to be sitting again to really care too much. He was disappointed in himself, and his stupid Bambi legs, and he had the nagging suspicion that he would soon be disappointed in his stupid stomach as it was starting to cramp with nerves as the rest of their group sat around the table, Jackson pulling out another chair for Lydia while Peter sat next to Stiles with an amused smile.

He was gonna cut a bitch if his stupid health problems stopped him from eating his weight in grilled beef and cake. 

“Is there a real possibility of swooning today?” Peter asked, disingenuous concern poorly covering his obvious humor at the idea. “I’d heard your health has been delicate lately but you seemed to be holding up well enough back at the house.”

Stiles blew a dismissive raspberry, waving off the question airily. “No, no risk of swooning! Please keep the smelling salts away from me. All I need is a good steak and I’ll be right as rain.”

The man hummed, clearly unconvinced but willing to let it lie, for now. 

“So,” Peter said, casually flicking open the menu. “Should we play twenty questions? We should get to know each other if I’m going to be your Alpha. I must admit I’m very curious about your relationship,” he gave them an appreciative and knowing once over. “How do you make it work? Or is this simply a casual arrangement between the three of you?”

“Are you seriously asking how threesomes work?” Jackson scoffed. “Real mature.”

“Not at all,” Peter replied, with an unimpressed raise of his brow that had Jackson flipping up his own menu to hide behind. “I was asking about your  _ relationship _ . Of course, if you are simply fuck buddies then that’s an answer in itself, isn’t it?”

“Our  _ relationship _ isn’t anyone else’s business,” Stiles said. Which was true to an extent, but this whole threesome thing plus Scott thing was, in a way, pack business. Bleh, this wasn’t the game he was hoping to play with their new Alpha today. Couldn’t he start off with easier questions? Maybe truth or dare instead?

“If you expect me to be your Alpha then it will be my business.” Peter’s voice was steel, and the three of them subconsciously sat up straighter in their seats. “I need to know if your relationship is an asset or a potential time bomb waiting to happen. If you want my support then you better have a way of proving to me that whatever is going on between you three won’t implode in a messy explosion of teenage angst and hormones. I have no interest in throwing in my lot with a soap opera waiting to happen.”

“Good grief you two,” Lydia said, closing her menu with a snap. “Calm down please. Can we at least order first before talking business? If this is the level of conversation we are about to have then I would much rather do it with a meal to distract me from all the bickering.”

“Of course, how rude of me,” Peter said, flagging down the waitress. They ordered their meals quickly, less out of any desire to get back to business and more because they were still hungry teenagers, bordering on the edge of hangry. 

“Jackson and I are mates,” Lydia said after the waitress had whisked off with their orders, leaving them with drinks and a promise of appetizers to come. Jackson took her hand in his and gave it a loving squeeze and she gave him a small smile. “We mate bonded in first grade and have been very happy ever since.”

Peter was giving them the raised brows again, giving a significant look toward Stiles. 

“Stiles is a new addition.” 

“A long time friend,” Stiles cut in, raising his soda to Lydia in a toast.

“Yes, old friend, new thing. He’s very important to us,” she said, lips twitching in a smile.

“Both of us,” Jackson said, and Stiles felt his face heat up at the possessive growl in the boy’s voice. “He’s ours now, whatever you call this. And it will be a cold day in hell before we give him up or dump his ass, so you don’t have to worry about drama. It’s not going to happen.”  

“I see.

“I had heard, and correct me if I’m wrong  — I’ve been out of town for some time so i may not be up to date on all the town news —  that you, Stiles, have been happily bonded for over ten years now.” He leaned in, taking a sip of his drink as he watched their reactions. “Where, if I may ask, is your mate in all this?” 

“You’re right,” Stiles rolled his eyes, balling up his straw wrapper into ever smaller shapes. “You are behind on the news. But if you’ve heard about my health then I’m sure you’ve heard enough gossip to get the gist of what happened. I’m not bonded anymore and that’s really all that matters.”

“Hmmm, his loss I suppose,” Peter said, not showing any outward annoyance at Stiles brush off. 

“Hey all! Here’s your appetizers!” The waitress cut in, arriving at their table tray in hand and immediately distributing plates around their table. There were salads and cheese sticks, enough to distract from the topic as they divided out the food among them. 

“Is it our turn to ask questions?” Jackson asked once they were settled again, a glint in his eye promising retribution for Peter’s earlier daring. 

“Did you actually kill someone?” Stiles asked, leaning in so fast he almost knocked over his water glass. 

“Stiles,” Lydia sighed, but Peter only smirked.

“What? It’s in the top five theories on why Alpha Talia sent him away when he should have become an Alpha originally. And we have the chance to get an answer straight from the source!”

Peter smirked, obviously pleased to have been the center of so much of the town’s attention over the years. 

“Sorry to disappoint.  Talia didn’t send me away because I killed anyone. She might have preferred it if I had,” he said with a toothy smile at the palpable disappointment from his dinner partners.

“No, my dear sister sent me away because she can’t stand to not have control. Of everything and everyone around her. It’s a miracle really that Derek and Laura turned out as sane as they are.” He tutted, and fast as a snake stole a cheese stick from Stiles’ plate, smiling when the boy pouted. The ice had been broken, and the conversation moved to more light hearted banter as their meals arrived and open season began on anything from table manners to slander against bad teachers that had been at the high school since Peter had been a student. 

The food was great, and everyone was glad to have escaped the Hale mansion for lunch, however spontaneous their actions might have been.

“I do find this all curious,” Peter said, leaning back lazily, playing with his fork as he looked at them each in turn. “Three young people such as yourselves, you all posing such an interesting question on your own what with the rumors flying around town like so many flies. You three, coming to me, the black sheep of the Hale family, throwing away your chances at a nice, normal life just because you might not get along with every member of the Pack? Pardon me, but I do find that somewhat strange.”

“Isn’t it kind of sad that no one expects anything out of Pack these days beyond having a party after the Pledge and getting one step closer to drinking age?” Stiles said, always ready to have a good rant about anything at the drop of a pin. “ Call me a romantic but I kind of like the crap the government tries to sell us, the whole Pack is family spiel. Why shouldn’t I want to Pledge to a Pack that would actually support and care for me?”

Peter’s smile was cold. “Most people don’t care.”

“We care,” Lydia said, “We’ve all experienced the strength of a mate bond. It stands to reason that a proper Pack bond would be something powerful, given the right circumstances.”

Peter shrugged, face a neutral mask. “Why risk it? I would have thought it more advantageous to embrace the weaker nature of a typical Pack bond, especially with your painful recent experience.” he gave Stiles a knowing look. 

“That’s why I want the bond,” Stiles said, ignoring the looks Jackson and Lydia sent him. 

_ Why did he pick Peter instead of just being normal for once? _

“Think of it like exposure therapy. I don’t want some weak-ass bond replacing what I lost, I’d much rather pick someone who can’t leave me without my say so.” 

_ Wow, he was really pulling this out of his ass right now, but it sounded better than ‘I was so close to dissociating that I recklessly jumped at a crazy random idea just to feel something’. _

“Besides, I’m a needy person who’s about to enter an especially emotionally brutal legal battle with my ex and I deserve a sugar daddy who can spoil me,” he finished, shoving a big bite of steak into his mouth for emphasis.

_ Ugh. Nevermind, he sounded like an idiot.  _

Peter was probably regretting ever meeting them and would be running out the door as fast as he could when lunch was over. 

Why did he do stupid spontaneous shit like this? Why couldn't he leave well enough alone and just do the normal thing ? 

_ Why did everything always have to be an issue with him? _

Stiles’ stomach churned uncomfortably and he stabbed viciously at his meal, wishing this whole thing was over already.

Lydia sighed, patting at her mouth carefully with her napkin. “Look, our reasons are simple. We don’t want to join any other available Packs. I can’t say this was planned but there’s been enough complaint these last few weeks from each of us that I can truthfully say I don’t have a problem with this course of action. We have ambitions and therefore we expect extra support that all available Alphas simply cannot offer us. And as you noticed, our relationships are unconventional, so having an unconventional Pack is more of a appeal than you might think. Besides, we value loyalty  — which of course would be reciprocal.”

“We’re trouble, for sure,” Jackson said with an uncaring shrug. “But between the three of us any investment you put into our futures and well-being will definitely pay off. If you can’t see that then that’s your problem.”

“Hmm,” Peter tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, and Stiles suppressed a nervous shiver as the man’s eyes locked with his. “And if I provide, what would you be giving me in return? Would you be willing to submit?” his hand casually reached out, fingertips brushing against the red table cloth as he scooped up Stiles’ hand in his. “I would never stifle your proactive and informed participation in whatever future we might have together, but as your Alpha I would demand submission.” Slowly he raised Stiles’ hand, placing a teasing kiss to the knuckles. Stiles couldn’t hide his shiver and a soft drag of lips against his fingers betrayed the smirk the older man was wearing at his reaction. “After all, it’s the Alpha’s job to lead and guide the pack.”

“We aren’t going to kiss your feet,” Jackson said with a sneer.

Stiles cut him off, knocking his knee against Jackson’s in what he hoped was a supportive manner. “But general submission would totally be ok. An Alpha is supposed to be the one to deal with the hard crap in life. We would give you all the power and authority to deal with whatever needs dealing with. Unless there’s something else you’re worried about?”

“Well, I would expect you to live with me or very nearby.” Peter was dead serious, all playfulness gone. “Making a new Alpha isn't the easiest transition and pack stability would require us spending a great deal of time together. In this regard Derek had it easy. Our public school system is a glorified daycare and he shared classes with most of his pack, and while I hesitate to call Derek the most well adjusted Hale it did go a long way to keeping him stable. Much the same with Laura. I understand you all might have college plans but I’m warning you now, If you join my pack there will be no room for long distances between us, not until we get a few years and a few more pack members under our belts.”

The table was silent for a moment. Lydia was looking at Peter with a calculating frown, Jackson watching her reaction, always ready to take his cue from the brains of their group. Stiles said nothing. It wasn’t something he hadn’t asked himself after all. There was no part of him that had ever wanted to be far from his dad, and at one time Scott and Melissa too. Even with that huge change he still balked at the thought of being out of reach should his dad need him for anything, especially now that their relationship was so fragile and improving. But he knew Lydia was meant for great things, and while that could mean Stanford or some big school close by that didn’t mean she should restrict her options. Jackson he knew, had the grades and athletics to get into most schools. In that regard he had every reason to have a big head. He worked as hard as he talked shit. 

“I think,” Lydia finally said with some reluctance, “That we can work something out.”

Peter nodded. “Excellent. We can talk later about your applications and housing, once we have the Pledge properly taken care of.” And that was that.

This meal was the worst emotional roller-coaster Stiles had been on since his dad thought he could take the pain out of having The Talk if he did it over burgers and milkshakes. It didn’t help, and Stiles hadn’t been able to look at vanilla milkshakes or straws without horror for months.

“I’m just gonna run to the bathroom real quick,” Stiles grimaced, setting down his fork. His stomach was sending fluttery unhappy signals to his brain and he felt like it would be safer if he was near a toilet. “Be right back,” he flashed a weak smile at the group. Even Peter looked concerned, and the soon to be Alpha wasn’t quite up to date on all Stiles various medical catastrophes.

He managed to push back his chair and leave the table with enough confidence that no one followed him, at least for now. He would take his victories where he could, especially when the bar is so low as wanting to puke up his lunch without an audience.

The men’s room was just as fancy as the rest of the place, black marble sink counters matching black toilet stalls, and Stiles felt his legs shake as the door swung closed heavily behind him. He stumbled to the sink, slapping at the faucets till blissfully cool water began to run and he could splash his face. It helped, the world firming up a bit under the water’s shocking touch.

“Ugh,” he groaned to himself, both hands braced on the counter as the running water gave him the illusion of privacy, all sounds from the restaurant muffled and distant. Carefully he filled his palm and took a sip, settling his stomach a bit at a time as he occasionally wiped a wet hand over his face. By the time he felt like puking was unlikely to happen it had become increasingly clear that he wouldn’t be leaving the room under his own power. His legs felt like jello that hadn’t quite set and standing was starting to require too much focus.

“Fucking fuck,” he muttered, dragging a trembling hand away from supporting his weight to pat a little desperately at his side for his phone. He needed Jackson. He couldn’t bare the thought of Peter seeing him like this just when he was supposed to be convincing the man of his value and there was no way he was letting Lydia see him about to puke up his guts in a urinal.

The door opened somewhere to his right, but Stiles was fighting just to not drop his phone as he struggled to get trembling fingers to work the screen.

“Hey man, you ok?” a deep voice was asking from above his shoulder, but the phone was slipping out of his hand, lockscreen blurring and the world tilting dangerously, and Stiles couldn’t pinpoint why the voice sounded familiar.

Dark spots were mixing with painful sparkles in his vision as he swayed in place, and he tried to take a step forward, away from the sinks and hopefully away from a bloody smashed face as he fainted. 

“Hey! Shit — ”

Strong hands caught him across the waist, slowing his sudden drop and easing him to his knees as the roaring in his ears and darkness in his vision blocked out everything but the reassuring touch as he fainted. 

Just a little. 

Light slapping on his cheek a few moments later brought him back up out of the dark. He groaned pathetically, the blood coming back to his brain a bit at a time. 

“Sorry, sorry I’m really  — ugh,” he whimpered a bit as the hands moved him, raising his head up and pushing his noodle limbs over until he was sitting somewhat upright on the floor.

“Do I need to call an ambulance?” the voice asked, annoyance and worry conveyed through a deep rumble that had Stiles finally opening his eyes and wow, he had never been this close to Boyd before but the dude had really pretty eyes. Or Stiles had actually hit his head and was hallucinating his beefy classmate pressing two fingers to his wrist to check his pulse. Oh, right.

“No, I’m good. Well, not good, but not dying or anything.” Stiles floundered, still feeling flushed and dizzy from his impromptu swoon. Damn Peter, the man would probably laugh himself silly when he found out what happened. Swooning. Ugh.

“Just let me call my friend — ” he reached up, trying valiantly to fish his phone out of the sink while not quite trusting his knees to hold him should he try to stand. 

Boyd didn’t say anything for a moment, then with a huff he gently pushed Stiles’ hand down. He didn’t have much choice but to do what the other boy wanted, and so Stiles found himself sitting on the floor, propped against the sink while Boyd stood and left the room. 

“Ughh,” Stiles muttered to himself, closing his eyes against the glare of the bathroom lights and the continuing swooping feeling of his vision. “Left to die alone on the bathroom floor. Please don’t let anyone write that on my tombstone. It’s too pathetic.”

“You aren’t dying, dumbass,” Boyd said, startling him. He hadn’t even heard the door open again. “I put up the cleaning signs. No one should bother us for a while.” He knelt down next to Stiles, offering him a few paper towels, which Stiles took gratefully, patting water and sweat off his face with still shaking hands.

“Dude, why are you even here? Didn’t you turn eighteen like, three months ago? It’s Pledge day.” he asked. He was pretty sure Boyd was a few months older than him even, so by all rights he should be over at the Hale’s right now, signing his Pledge and picking his pack like the rest of the eighteen year olds in their grade. Only a few of their classmates were still under eighteen. Danny, for instance, was seventeen until December and had been snotty about getting to go to the more private, smaller Pledge that would be held in January. 

Boyd snorted, shaking his head at the question. “Is it? I had no fucking idea. Just let me get my Sunday best on and hop over to her Alphaship’s mansion for tea.”

Stiles cracked an eye open, giving the other boy an appreciative squint. “Dude. Please don’t roast me on my deathbed. Death floor. Whatever. I didn’t know you had jokes?”

“What I have is work. Boss is a dick and I couldn’t afford to drop a shift just to play nice with the Alpha. Not if I want to buy my own car in time for college. No optional Pledge days this year means I’m stuck till August.”

“Sucks dude.”

“Yeah. Sucks.”

Sitting there on the bathroom floor, still feeling like crap but thanks to Boyd not bleeding out or drowning in his own puke, and having time to recover with relative privacy also thanks to Boyd….

Stiles sighed heavily. “Dude. I have a terrible, awesome idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter makes sense :/ I just reread this whole fic to make sure I'm not forgetting anything long term and boy do I have a lot of balls in the air!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter took so long. It was a combination of ADHD time loss and for personal reasons this chapter did not spark joy.

 

The way he saw it, change was just a sucker punch waiting to happen. Changes for the better were a luxury he had never been lucky enough to enjoy. Instead, change meant he had a suddenly dead mom, an absent brother turned dead brother, and a dad who slipped into violence like someone trying on a new coat. Change meant pain and loneliness and newer, more exciting ways to suffer. Change was giving up on good grades to work for free all night in fresh dug graves. Change was slipping from the warmth of his bed to the icy embrace of the basement freezer.

And now change was a bully suddenly turning good guy on him. Change was being seen for once in his miserable life. Seen and heard and made _safe_. Actually removed from his farce of a home, taken away from his father and his father’s rage. His life was flipped upside down and he was waiting for the sting of the landing to set in. It had all happened so fast that he wasn't quite done processing it yet. He lived in a haze for two days at least, strangely disconnected as his future was set on a new course by well-meaning adults who seemed to genuinely want a better situation for him than the fear and pain he had lived with for the last decade. 

His foster home was unremarkable, little danger to be found there, at least not yet. Just bland enough that he wondered if the new hurts that awaited him would come from an outside source this time. 

Isaac didn't trust it. Couldn't trust it. Nothing was ever that easy, and nothing this good could really happen to him. 

It was making him sick to his stomach to wait for the bad to happen, so he decided to be proactive for once. Besides, there was one thing he was sure of in this world; Jackson Whittemore was a life ruining asshole and nothing good could come of him taking an interest in you. 

Not that Jackson had ever noticed him before, at least not beyond just the general air of intimidation he threw out like an aura wherever he went. No, Jackson had never noticed, or cared, not when it came to Isaac and his troubles. Even though he knew. He knew Isaac's secret for years, heard the shouting and the bottles breaking, saw the bruises and the blood. But he never reported it. Sure, he also didn't point it out to anyone else either, even though it made Isaac easy pickings for bullies. That wasn't Jackson's style. He only did shit like that if it benefited him in some way, and even Isaac could admit that Jackson wasn't the kind of person to take things further than a clip to the shoulder or a scathing remark. He was a bully, but like, he had lines he wouldn't cross. So of course that made this whole situation all the more suspicious.  

He had to know. Why now? Why after all this time? What did Jackson gain by reporting on Issac's and then not speaking to him about it? He would get answers even if he had to punch them out of Jackson. After all, he had nothing else to lose now.

The only problem was cornering Jackson somewhere relatively private and where they wouldn't be interrupted. They only shared two classes, Math and English, and those were early in the day. He could try to corner him in the parking lot, but that meant a big audience and the chance that the other boy might just drive off. Usually there would also be the problem of Lydia and Danny being joined at Jackson's hip, but Danny had been busy like mad between lacrosse and math club, and all the tutoring he was doing to save for college. Issac had no idea what was up with Lydia except that her absence had something to do with the sheriff's kid and his meltdown-or was it assault? Issac had been too busy getting his life turned upside down as his dad was dragged kicking and screaming off to jail, a relief actually since he attacked the officer sent to collect him and basically closed the books on his case with that.

 Whatever was going on only helped Isaac's plan in the end. Lydia and Jackson seemed to be alternating school days and were too distracted with whatever was happening to notice Issac watching them, which was probably a good thing since he wasn’t exactly inconspicuous right now. It wasn’t really a secret that CPS had stepped in with his dad’s shit. He had actually dreaded being the center of gossip at school for all of a day before realizing he was in luck.

It turns out lots of other students were distracted by the same thing Jackson and Lydia were.

Stiles Stilinski had, overnight it seemed, become the only thing the town could talk about. Of course it was big news, the son of the sheriff —part of one of the youngest mated pairs in beacon  Hills— had been put in the hospital with Mate Shock and his former mate, Scott McCall had been seen around town with a new flame.

It sounded crazy.  No one actually went into Mate Shock outside of true crime dramas and bodice ripper romance novels. It was just too much to believe a high school kid he vaguely knew, in real life, almost died because his mate assaulted him and destroyed their bond.

Besides that there was the mystery of Jackson and Lydia's involvement with the whole scandal. The Stilinski kid had been rushed to the hospital before anyone even knew anything was happening, so no one had his side of the story directly. That didn’t mean much when Lydia started posting things to social media. Suddenly the pair were heroes and Stiles Stilinski was a tragic victim and strong survivor all bundled into one instagram package. McCall’s reputation was toast.

 Isaac wasn't going to fall for their lies so easily. He had known Jackson for too long to be fooled by his occasional bouts of conscience. Besides, with no witnesses and the Stilinski kid not talking there was only Jackson and Lydia's word on how the conflict went down verses how McCall saw it, and McCall had only laughed it off and said that he and Stilinski weren’t mates, nothing about how the bond was broken...but no one could have savaged their mating bond at it’s full strength and then laughed about it, right? There was something else going on there for sure.

Jackson probably did something to the Stilinki kid, probably put him in the hospital himself. Scott was a nice guy and would never do that to his mate, or friend —whatever they were to each other. Or at the very least he wouldn't have done it just to date some new girl. It was nuts. No one just ripped apart their bond. 

Isaac had a plan to revel the truth to all of Beacon Hills. It wasn’t a great plan, but simplicity meant less things that could go wrong. Either he followed Jackson to the hospital and revealed nefarious wrong doing or he got caught and maybe had to confront the bull head on. Either way all the waiting would be over and he could get on with his life.

So he kept his head down, waiting until it was Jackson’s day to skip school before heading over to the hospital bright and early so he wouldn't miss the boy walking in. He didn't want to have to ask the staff where Stilinski was but if worst came to worst he would. 

Isaac almost ended up giving himself away when Jackson finally did arrive. Jackson was wearing sweats, and not the cool "I'm a supermodel sports guy" kind of sweats either, but rather the comfortable "thin in the ass ketchup stain on the thigh" laying around on a Saturday morning kind of pants. He looked comfortable, and he was carrying a to go tray with two milkshakes and a bag of food balanced on top. Isaac was so shocked that he almost forgot to follow him inside and had to power walk after him. 

They passed a few other visitors and some hospital staff but no one gave them a second look, too wrapped up in their own health tragedies to pay the two teenagers any attention. When Jackson finally entered a room Isaac was easily able to tuck himself in along the wall, out of sight of the room's occupants but within perfect eavesdropping distance.

He leaned back against the wall, hands in his pockets and boredom on his face. Nothing to see here, just a regular visitor.

There was a soft scraping sound as something in the room was moved, and Jackson set out the food. Isaac peeked at the reflection in the small frosted window of the ope door. Jackson’s blurry form was seated by a bed, which contained the only other occupant of the room. 

There were soft murmurs, greetings Isaac assumed, still thrown by the idea of Jackson being soft for anything or anyone. He leaned closer, hoping to hear more.

“It hurts, Jax."

Isaac strained to hear, the words coming in sad whimpers from the person in the bed. This must be the Stilinski kid then. 

“I know. It’s going to get better though. You’re tough. Can you drink this for me? I got cheeseburgers too, the good kind with sesame buns.”

“Jackson,” the boy was crying, clearly out of it, though Isaac couldn’t tell if it was the illness or medication that did it. “It's so empty in my chest. Everything’s gone. I hate it so so much—“

Shit. He really shouldn't be hearing this. But he didn’t want to bail just yet, not when he felt so close to something. Some sort of understanding. 

“You need to eat, Stiles. Please?” Jackson was pleading, and it didn’t even give Isaac the satisfaction he had always imagined would come from the jock humbling himself. It was really sad, and he felt like a dickwad for ever thinking Stilinksi was lying about or faking his illness as he heard the boys arguing and Stilinski started to hyperventilate. 

“Shit!” There was a screech as Jackson pushed back in his seat. Isaac didn’t have time to hide as the boy stuck his head out of the room and flagged down a nurse. 

“Hey, sorry. I need some help in here!” Isaac stood stiff as a board, praying Jackson was too focused to notice him, standing there, out in the open, right at the door. So it wasn’t a great plan, and he felt his face heat up like an oven when Jackson turned to go back into the room and did a double take at him.

“Uhh, I can explain,” Isaac started, ironically aware of the fact that he had come here to make Jackson explain what the hell was going on, but he felt wrong footed and like he had been witness to something super private.

"Isaac?" Jackson was staring at him like he had grown two heads. He opened his mouth to speak, no doubt to demand why Isaac was spying on him at the hospital, or maybe even ask if he had been stalking him, but the nurse arrived and they both had to step aside to let her in. The boy in the bed was still audibly upset, crying and weakly thrashing in a way that made Isaac's stomach churn, and he regretted ever coming here. This really wasn't any of his business and he couldn't imagine how horrible he would feel if it were him in that bed getting sedated by nurses while some strange kid from school watches on. 

He turned around, quickly walking a few doors down the hall and trying to calm himself. It was fine. He wouldn't tell anyone what he saw, heck, this gave him every reason to come to Stilinski's defense at school. It was a good thing, right? And what he had seen with Jackson, well. Maybe his suspicions were unfounded? Maybe the universe just cut him some slack and decided it was time for someone to step up.

"Hey," Jackson came up beside him, hands in his pockets and gaze settled somewhere around the top of Isaac's head while he simultaneously tried to keep an ear on what was happening back in the room. "What's up? Are you doing ok? Why are you here?"

Isaac wasn't sure what to say. Should he come clean? He couldn't tell if Jackson was stiff with embarrassment, mistrust, or if he knew at all what Isaac had been up to since he made that call and got Isaac removed to foster care. 

They stared awkwardly at each other as the nurse did her thing. 

“Thank you,” Isaac said, the words bursting out and startling both of them. “Uh, you know. For what you did. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jackson seemed embarrassed, and Isaac felt himself staring like a dazed fish but he couldn’t help it. This was freaking weird. 

Jackson coughed, a fake sound that didn't do a good job of defusing the tension between them. “I should have done something sooner. I was scared—it doesn't matter. I’m sorry for waiting so long.”

“See you around I guess,” Isaac said, and then immediately fled. This was way too awkward for him to handle. 

 

~~~~~~~

 

The week goes by strangely after that. He doesn’t start eating lunch with the boy or hanging out like bffs, but he still watches Jackson from a distance, taking note of small things he had never paid much attention to before. He now knows enough stupid trivia on the dude to win at Jeopardy. He knows Jackson acts aloof but does stupidly cute romantic things like pull out seats for Lydia and kiss her forehead every morning when they meet at the lockers before class. He knows that both Jackson and Lydia have been visiting the hospital to help Stiles Stilinski recover, and he knows it's only getting better slowly over there. McCall and his mother get arrested and released so fast people barely had time to gossip about it before something new would develop. Isaac sees the new girl walking the halls with a face that flips between sour and sad. He doesn't know how to feel about it all.

Life keeps happening and Issac gets used to the new normal. It’s kind of nice. He may not have a loving family but overworked and distant foster parents win out over his drunk and violent father any day. Plus he finally gets to do normal teen things, in fact, its expected and his foster family encourages it, if only to look good during regularly scheduled CPS visits. That’s how he found himself being dropped off at the Hale mansion for Pledge day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to do my best to get back on a weekly to week and a half posting schedule now that im over this hump and the steter is on the horizon!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *blows kiss*  
> I almost died but this chapter is twice as long as usual!

So their first dinner with their Alpha was a bit of a disaster.

"You're going to be trouble, aren't you?" Peter had given Stiles some seriously judging eyebrows when Boyd had helped him wobble his way out of the restroom. "Do try and channel that kind of disaster energy toward non pack members, I would hate for this kind of thing to happen at home."

"I'll give it my best shot, but no promises," Stiles had said, collapsing into his seat with several grateful pats to Boyd's amazingly comfortable chest as both Jackson and Lydia fussed around him. They hadn't stayed long at the restaurant after that, and Boyd had managed to slip out of Stiles' clutches when he had been distracted trying to stop Jackson from calling the Sheriff and tattling on him.

Still, Stiles almost fainting and dying alone in the men's room hadn't put Peter off of the idea of forming a pack with them, and they had finished the day with a proper pledge over at Peter's office and the minimum of paperwork signed for submission to form a new pack. It was all somewhat anticlimactic after the dramatic showdown at the Hale mansion earlier that day.

All in all it wasn't the most embarrassing end to an evening Stiles had ever experienced. His more embarrassing evenings tended to involve public nudity and a lot more property damage, plus, if it was a really bad evening his father would be there with his disappointed face.

"Well," Lydia said with a sigh as she dropped her bag onto the love seat. "That was nothing like what I was expecting, but it could have been worse."

"Hey, I was gonna say that!" He barely managed to muster up the energy for his usual antics, but exhaustion was it's own flavor of hysterical and besides that Lydia looked tired enough that quality banter would be wasted on them both. "I knew you've secretly been stealing my ideas with your psychic mind reading powers."

He flopped onto the space next to her, fully prepared to fall asleep right where he landed. It was a nice couch. Lydia's mom was the kind of rich lady who invested in luxuriant comfort first, style second. Stiles' butt was thankful.

He startled when large, warm hands cupped his head, pressing over his scalp as his annoyed grumbles melted into pleased moans as the hands trailed light scratches with firm pressure.

"Well, you don't seem to have a concussion from your little bathroom trip so, despite the dumbass coming out of your mouth right now," Jackson scolded, but his hands remained, massaging away all the yuck Stiles had felt since earlier.

"No, Boyd saved me from head injury," Stiles confirmed, then moaned, trying to push up into the massage, but he mostly just flopped around like a fish.

"Well I'm glad he was there, because you are apparently just stupid, or have a death wish."

"Mmmmmm." The hands had hit that good spot on the side behind his ear. ".....Hey wait!" He forced his eyes open out of pure indignation, only to be met with twin looks of disappointment from Jackson and Lydia.

"No fair," he whined, closing his eyes and trying to become one with the couch. "We just agreed that everything wasn't that bad! There is to be no glaring at the Stiles when things could have gone worse!"

With a growl Jackson ruffled his hair forcefully before vaulting the couch to squish in beside him, which ended up with lots of protesting shouts, elbows in bad places, and Stiles ending up mostly in Jackson's lap with his back to Jackson's chest. Jax, still growling, began pressing possessive kisses along the boy's neck, interspersed with comments like "You idiot" and "Why won't you ask for help when you need it" or "You could have been really hurt".

Stiles didn't know what to do about this turn of events other than to melt like hot ice cream, if ice cream was also shivery and weak like a new born deer. This was erotic and slightly nerve wracking. Sure, they had all sort of verbally agreed they liked each other in an I Want To Get Naked With You kinda way, but being almost terminally ill kind of put a damper on any physical relationships. And while he wasn't a virgin per say. There had just always been something between him and He Who Must Not Be Named that had stopped them from going beyond the occasional hand job and peck on the cheek. He used to think it was romantic, saving themselves for college. That they were so complete together that there was just no need to rush because they had forever to get to the good stuff.

Needless to say it meant that having Jackson nipping at his pulse point was kind of embarrassingly amazing and maybe a little faster than he was used to. Didn't mean he objected though.

"Jackson's right, although I think both your brains are scrambled," Lydia said. She leaned forward, crawling into Stiles' lap as he pulled back, wide eyed at the look on her face. But a nip to his ear and firm arms reaching around to cup his pecs reminded him there was nowhere to run.

"This will not happen again, do you understand me?" She stopped, just inches away from his face. She leaned in, forcing him to brace his palms on her thighs or risk grinding up against her. Or giving into the temptation to see if her breasts were as soft as he always dreamed. But she didn't say he could, and he wasn't sure what was too much, or too little right now.

"No more hiding when you feel unwell," she said, her voice a command that made his mouth dry. "No more almost fainting, and no more rescues from non pack members."

He nodded, too scared to say no, even though he would never say no to her when she sounded worried like that. Besides, he knew full well tonight had just been dumb luck. If Boyd hadn't shown up when he did things would have been a lot bloodier and he could have ended up back in the hospital for pushing himself too hard too soon, which would have more than sucked. He didn't think his sanity could take another hospital stint so soon.

"We're keeping Boyd though, right?" he pouted, trying to be as persuasive as he could. "I have a great need. Boyd completes me. All that stoic bigness and soft underbelly tempers my small meanness. He is my other half!"

Lydia reached out slowly, raising her hand until it was right in front of his face and he was going cross eyed to look at it. She flicked him on the nose.

He yelped, but she only laughed and leaned in to catch his mouth with hers. The kiss was smooth with lip gloss and he almost forgot how to breathe before she mercifully pulled away.

"Of course we are keeping Boyd. He seems smart and capable. You need more babysitters than we have anyway."

He huffed a little, licking his lips to feel that residual kissing tingle. "I would resent that, but I'm so tired I can't feel my legs."

She kissed his forehead once before sitting up, pushing Jackson's hands down to a more PG 13 placement on Stiles sides. "Do you need to stay the night? My mother won't care."

"Naw. I just need to rest a bit before I head out." He really didn't want to go. His father was back at work again, having no more vacation time to take off, and the house would be deserted. But he would have to learn to deal with it sooner or later.

"I'll drive you home," Jackson announced, giving up his claim on Stiles' neck and making himself more comfortable under the boy. "We can get you for school tomorrow, food too if you're up early enough."

"Square deal," Stiles mumbled, feeling that exhaustion setting in. It really had been a long day. "Just a small nap ok? Wake me up when it's time to go."

"Yeah yeah, don't get your panties in a twist. Go to sleep. We'll get you home later."

Content, he let himself drift off into blissful darkness.

 

~~~~

 

Two days after their shocking splash into the adult world of Pack, Stiles was annoyed to find himself very much without company of any sort. His house was empty and dark, his father at work, again. He didn't want to think about that too hard. Sure, his dad had been supportive when it was do or die at the hospital, but slipping back into old habits was easy, and he really didn't want to think about what he would do if his dad started being distant again. His ability to handle even little problems without crying or hyperventilating was almost non existent these days, a frustrating emotional symptom of his ongoing bond destruction.

Alone in the house, he dropped his keys into a bowl on the hall table and flipped on the lights, blinking against the sudden stark whiteness that flooded the room. Maybe they needed to get some new bulbs. Pure white was unnatural and it made him feel like he was in a slasher film. It was too quiet, and the room smelled like stale air and the lingering acid bite of stress and sweat. He had forgotten what it was like without the sounds of machines running, nurses and other patents moving about. Without someone nearby to watch him, making sure he was ok and content.

For a moment he was stuck still, almost trembling with the desire to grab his stuff and run back to Lydia and Jackson. He didn't want to be alone, and he didn't want to go to his dad at the station even if he had slept on the old couch in his office more nights than he could count. There were too many eyes at the station, people who would whisper about him and give him looks. If he went to the station he would have to think about how his father had Scott and Mrs. McCall arrested, and that would make it too real. Besides, Lydia was at her own home tonight and Jackson was at his. He couldn't have both of them even if he did run.

Maybe if he kept himself busy, made some food and turned on the TV or something noisy he could forget about the way he dreaded being alone in his own head. That sounded like a good plan. Sandwiches were easy enough, and even with the craziness they still had peanut butter and bread in the kitchen.

Stiffly, he forced himself to go make a damn sandwich. Even if he couldn't eat it now having it around would help later.

Alone in the silence he slapped together two slices of bread and some PB with a questionably old jar of strawberry preserves he found lurking in the back of the fridge, grabbed a glass of milk, and headed up to his room. He could get out his laptop, put something on, pretend like everything was fine when it really wasn't and he kept expecting Scott to come out of the bathroom or something to suggest a round of whatever they had for the xbox that wasn't super boring yet.

It was strange. He had never really thought about it before, how little he had been left to his own devices when Mated. No reason to after all. It was just a fact of life. Scott and Stiles. Stiles and Scott. Where one was the other was too. He flopped back onto the bed, closing his eyes and breathing in, slowly counting the seconds as he took in the old smells of teenage boy, dirty laundry, and books.

He would be fine. It’s not like he wanted Scott there anyway. Not the Scott of now at least. But if he could turn back time to a point before they were thrown apart....

Suddenly his eyes were stinging, and he had to actually focus to keep counting, keep breathing. A handful of days were all that stood between the Scott who loved him and the Scott who, what? Hated him? Threw away all their years together without warning or care? He didn’t even know.

How could Scott have not felt it? That warm, solid weight in the center of everything that told a person they were not alone? Stiles sure felt its absence now, like a river of ice beneath his skin that trickled ever downward into a hole of sadness. This was beyond emo feelings,.This was real, hard core despair. It fucking sucked.

He wanted Scott back damn it. Nothing about this was fair. It was stupid, fucked up, and he just wanted his best friend. His mate. He wanted his one person in the whole world who understood him, who had been there when his mother died, who had spent nights playing video games and mornings making pancakes with him. His Scott, who was kind and his moral compass in this teenage hell. The Scott who loved puppies and wanted to own a motorcycle someday despite the very idea scaring the crap out of their parents. Stiles wanted his Scott back, but Scott was never going to be his Scott again. 

He shouldn't be alone right now. The doctors had been very clear on the matter. Mate Shock was a lingering illness that would go on for months, more if he aggravated it with feelings of anxiety or abandonment. But he didn't feel good about how much time and energy he was sucking out of his family. Jackson and Lydia had turned their lives upside down to be there for him, and his dad was even arresting people to make this right. He couldn't pull them away yet again, not when he had only just barely been alone for less than an hour.

But he didn't have anyone else. Not without Scott or Melissa. It was just his dad, and his few friends.

Or no, that wasn't quite true anymore was it? There was one other person he could, theoretically, call for attention.

He hesitated, finger hovering over the call button he had just pulled up on the screen.

Picking Peter to be their Alpha had been a spur of the moment, wild and crazy decision, born of this never ending ennui that hung over him like a dense fog since this all started. But the truth was, it maybe-possibly wasn’t as random as he had been telling himself. Peter had been on his radar for a while now. A cocky bastard, a man who seemed to delight in frustrating everyone around him while still making them come back begging for more. He was kind of Adult Goals, at least Stiles thought so. Stiles always fancied the super villain with a great backstory type over a good guy born with a heart of gold. Even Batman was more of a compromise than a true indication of his tastes if he was being honest with himself. If Stiles had to pick a hero he would at least go with dark and clever.

It didn’t help that Peter Hale was also sex on legs and might have been one of a few older men who had made him look twice back when he would never even consider them. Back when he had Scott.

He shivered, and hit the call button.

The phone rang exactly ten times, just long enough that Stiles almost gave up and resigned himself to calling his dad, so the sudden click and sharp "Yes?" startled him so badly that he dropped his phone in an epic flail of surprise. 

"Shit!" he lunged after the phone, breathing a sigh of relief when he found it intact. He had already cracked one screen this year and was out of allowance for months over it. With both hands he held the phone back to his ear, a slight tremble in his voice as he tried to clear his throat. 

"Sorry, uh, I didn't think you were going to answer?"

There was a short pause, before a confused "Stiles?" came through the speaker. 

And double shit. "Yes! Sorry! This is Stiles. I guess I forgot to give you my number when we all got yours huh?" He assumed that was just an oversight. It wouldn't make sense for Peter to not want the ability to get a hold of his new pack members. Especially since he gave them the power to bother him on a whim, like Stiles was now. Stupid Paranoid Stiles needed to stop yelling in his head about Peter wanting to avoid him and let Reasonable Stiles deal with this like an adult. 

"Yes, I figured." The eye roll was so strong he could hear it. Stiles held the phone away from his face to glare at it. "Stiles, what do you need?"

"Oh, right. I was, well," the stupid tremor in his airway was back and he felt like he was reliving tenth grade all over again. Puberty couldn't be worse than calling up your new Alpha for...bonding? Cuddles? Chilling, hanging out, and or generally just existing in proximity to each other?

"Can you come over?" He blurted out, then face-palmed. Fucking impulsive risk taking brain chemistry. "I mean, if you have time."

There was a long pause, and Stiles was sweating bullets now. 

"I can be over in an hour, unless there's an urgent need for my company. Will that suit you?"

"Yes! I mean, no rush, but yeah. An hour is great." And it would give him time to calm the fuck down and get his shit together. 

"I'll see you then, Stiles. Text me the address."

"See you," he said softly, phone still held to his face as the dial tone rang. 

Ok. No big deal. Peter was coming over in an hour and he didn't really have a reason for calling him over. No problem, he could come up with something, maybe questions about the pack? He always had questions, and they were all new to this, even Peter. It would be fine. Unless Peter saw all the dirty laundry that was currently taking up most of his floor, and there were the two bags of garbage he hadn't managed to get outside yet, and the half packed overnight bag his dad had left in the living room after Stiles had returned from his hospital stay. He was fucked. 

Jumping to his feet he flew down the stairs. There was no time for depression and anxiety, he had to clean NOW. He couldn't let Peter see the way he lived! 

 

~~~~

 

"Why am I here, Stiles?"

Peter Hale stood in the entryway, a bored look on his face as he took in the various photographs on the wall and unremarkable decor attempting to brighten the place up. 

God, if only Stiles knew why. He was deeply regretting calling the man, but the mere thought of him leaving was just as painful. Besides that, he didn't want to risk angering the man who had only just agreed to a lifelong Pack pledge with him. Deflection it was then. He had a plan of lies and distraction that should work to keep the guy around long enough to chip away at the lonely hours ahead before anyone would be available to replace him as Stiles support buddy.

"Are you serious about the pack stuff?" he avoided the man's eyes, fingers tapping a fast beat against his thighs. "I know you said the idea appeals to you or whatever, but I need to know you're committed. I'm pretty high maintenance at the moment, and to be honest Jackson and Lydia are high maintenance all the time." Accuse, deflect, interrogate, word vomit. The best defense is a good offence and it's possible he might have forgotten his meds in his haze of self pity, dang it.

Peter held up a hand, an unspoken command for silence. To his own surprise Stiles obeyed, swallowing his word vomit and earning a small smirk from the Alpha. His Alpha now.

"So," Peter said once it was clear Stiles would follow his lead. "I assume you need me for something, since you called me over so urgently.  "I'll ask again; Why am I here?"

"I don't want to be alone," Stiles said, then winced. Honesty was the worst policy, whatever his dad might say. But he really didn't know if he could keep up any good lies so off his game like this. Maybe Peter would take pity on him. "Like, if I'm not careful just feeling too alone right now could kill me."

"Dramatic." His tone betrayed no thoughts, and Stiles didn't dare look at his face. "If the situation is so dire why not call your partners? Or your father?"

He snorted, hand flying up to cover his mouth before he broke down into giggle or something. "I have daddy issues enough to probably warrant long term therapy." He shrugged, knowing that it wouldn't have stayed a secret for long, not with the legal battles and ongoing health crisis on the horizon. "I know he's trying to change, but I can't be the one to reach out yet. I can't trust him to be here right now. The crappiest truth I've ever had the misfortune to live. But it gives you the picture." He forced his eyes up toward the Alpha, who calmly watched him back, no judgment, only calculation in his eyes. "Can you be committed to this this kind of nonsense?"

"We've already committed. The real question is if we can trust each other enough to prove ourselves loyal."

He seemed so sure of himself. Ugh, maybe in another ten years Stiles could match up to that. "Mutually beneficial loyalty, right?"

"Of course," Peter said with a grand wave of the hand, as if dismissing any other idea as pure nonsense. "Besides, you started this, the wheels are all in motion and too many of my plans have begun to turn back now."

Stiles was silent, completely silent. He looked at the man in front of him, the man who had picked up the phone and come over to his house without any reason given. Peter didn't owe him the time of day, no matter what they might have said about packs and family. This was a choice he was making, to be there because Stiles asked him to come. Could he really ask more? 

"I don't have a good reason for you to be here," he admitted at last, palms clammy and heart rate kicking up as the thought of being alone again crept back in. 

With an annoyed huff Peter turned, and Stiles' heart jumped up to his throat before he realized the man wasn't leaving, but merely heading toward the living room couch, which he quickly took possession of. 

“I had high hopes for you all," Peter said, a slight sneer pulling at the corner of his mouth. Stiles shrank back a little, but Peter wasn't even looking at him. His Alpha was gazing into the middle distance, thoughts seemingly elsewhere even as he scolded his new beta.  

Stiles must be a glutton for punishment. A full on masochist. That was the only reason he could justify why he took those tentative steps over to the couch, slowly sitting as he watched for any sign from the Alpha that he was unwelcome. On his own goddamned couch.

"What do you mean?"

Sharp blue eyes focused back in on him, making Stiles freeze like pray pinned down by a wolf. 

"What do I mean?" Peter was watching him as if he could peel away his skin to understand what made him tick. "Please don't waste my time dancing around what you want to say. Either you’re worth whatever you want to ask for or you aren’t, in which case you shouldn't waste time asking. If I'm a good alpha I will provide, if I'm not then you’ve made a very stupid mistake and should have joined Derek's pack of ball fondlers.”

“Wow, you really are an asshole aren't you?” Stiles was blushing what he was sure was an unattractive color, he was so embarrassed. Fuck, he should have sucked it up and taken a nap or something. This was just as bad as being alone. But even when he was being a dick Peter smelled calm, grounding. Ugh. It just wasn't fair. 

Peter gave him an unimpressed look, then sighed. “I suppose you are young. You took the initiative, so there must be something in you I can train up.”

“Train?” Stiles sputtered. He couldn't seem to do more than parrot back Peter's own words. He was so confused, and yet worried that he actually did completely understand what was going on here. 

“Of course. Not everyone knows how to go about getting what they need, and you obviously need to be pushed, at least occasionally. I will make sure you learn quickly, I don’t have patience for false humility and martyrdom.”

Wow. This was really his life. He had a hot as hell and powerful as Satan Alpha, _his Alpha_ , sitting on the couch in his dusty and rarely used living room and peppering him with insults and promises. And Alpha who had rushed over just because he called, and who was now telling him that he would give him anything he needed, possibly anything he wanted, if only he would ask. Or maybe beg. Because asking was what, trust? And trust was loyalty? Or was he reading too much into this?

His palms hurt. The faintest scent of copper told him that he had been clenching his fists in his lap so hard that his nails had broken at least a bit of skin. Fuck, this was exactly what the doctors didn't want him to sink to. Slowly, he breathed out, forcing his muscles to relax as he tried to center himself. Double fuck. He was sitting close enough to Peter that the man's scent was most prominent, and it was _good_. A little spicy? He was wearing some sort of subtle cologne, or he went running in the woods enough to smell like plants. Either way the man was calm enough that his scent was actually helping. He even said he wanted to help, not exactly like that sure, but he told Stiles to ask for what he needed, right? 

What did he need?

"Ok, uhmmm. Do you want to watch a movie or something?" He felt like a kid asking his crush out to a middle school dance, only he had already had strangely intimate scenting and fondling from said crush?

Peter blinked, slowly, like he had caught himself being startled and like a cat was pretending that he meant to do it the whole time. Asshole. 

Stiles fidgeted, wondering if he should just cut his losses, get up and clean the blood off his palms and go back to bed so that this day could end. "Not in a weird way or anything, I'm not coming on to you, it's just, you came all this way to keep me company or whatever."

"Oh yes, such a hardship to drive ten minutes across town," he was laughing at Stiles' without even opening his mouth. "By all means show me your movie collection and we'll make an evening of it."

"Ugh. You're so weird! Do you want to hang out or not? If this is some big imposition just tell me ok?" He fell back against the cushions with a huff. "Why did you agree to make a Pack for us? If a bunch of kids had thrown themselves at me demanding all this attention and causing a big stink I would have laughed in their faces.”

“No you wouldn’t," he sounded exasperated, almost fond? It was too hard to tell what with the heavy sighing and general air of doneness about him. "You’re a bleeding heart, trying to adopt wayward and lonely teens left and right into MY Pack."

Stiles grinned. The look on Peter's face the other night at the restaurant when Stiles had insisted that Boyd was his knight in shining apron and should therefor be included in their Pack had been comical. On par with his dad's best Dealing With Stiles' Antics face. That reminded him to make a mental note to keep bugging Peter about letting Boyd in. Stiles was still determined to have him and his big goodness in the Pack, maybe to balance out all the evil and sass the rest of the Pack contained...

"But as for your question," Peter continued, snapping Stiles out of his tangent, "There is no one good answer. It was a combination of factors. Convenience and desire were some, and the fact that you three out of years and years worth of teenagers banging down my family’s door were the only group who seemed to take two seconds to think about what Pack means to you and what it will mean for your futures was another. I’m not a fan of the process myself, but I have to admit your naive and romanticized idea of Pack as family appeals to me. It appeals to my wolf.”

Stiles perked up. Now this was information worth having. 

“What does that mean exactly? I’ve never been able to find consistent definitions of what it means to have pure wolf blood instead of the watered down version the rest of us get.”

Peter didn’t answer. He was looking at Stiles, but he wasn’t seeing him, his mind somewhere else entirely. Slowly, he raised his hand, palm up towards Stiles’s cheek. The boy held his breath, waiting frozen and quiet to see what would happen.

“You understand, we aren’t animals exactly,” Peter finally said, his hand brushing along the side of Stiles’ face so lightly he wasn’t sure they touched at all. “But there’s a part of us that’s disconnected in a way, free from the troubles of a purely human intellect, focused on the here and now, on the good and not good. Pack and Not Pack.”

Peter’s hand settled on the pale, bare skin of Stiles’ neck, and he couldn’t help the shiver that went through him at the touch. It was like a switch had been flipped, and he felt himself going boneless, swaying towards the Alpha as the firm weight of the man’s grip reeled him in.

“Peter?”

“That’s your wolf responding to mine. The animal in me calls to the animal in you, awakening it in ways you couldn’t reach on your own. It’s exactly what makes us Alpha, and why bloodlines like ours are the only ones who can be Alpha. It’s also why Alpha’s are encouraged, or even coerced into building massive Packs.”

That made sense. There's no way politicians would be comfortable with the idea of Alphas and Packs at all if there wasn't a way to control it.

“It dilutes the what, the call thing? The power?” He asked, trying to wrap his mind around the weird pull he was feeling. 

Peter grinned, giving Stiles an approving squeeze that almost made him topple over it felt so good.

You know Stiles, I like you. I think we will get along just fine once we fix you up a bit, improve that pesky self esteem issue of yours. Now, didn't you want to watch a movie?" His palm was warm as it gave him another squeeze before turning into a gentle push to get him on his feet. "Be a good boy and pick something out?"

Dazed, happy but confused and a little shaky on his feet, Stiles just nodded. Movie. He could do that. Peter was staying, he would pick out a movie and they would sit together on the couch, maybe with a little more touching. He could definitely do that.

"I hope you like X-Men," he said, trying and probably failing to hide his eagerness. Maybe tonight wouldn't be that bad after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I might have mentioned other writing projects. If yall are interested I just set up a new site over here. Not much going on yet but soon there will be lots of writing stuff?  
> https://amberleewrites.wordpress.com/
> 
> As always my tumblr is very active. Because I have no life nor do I want one.  
> Love u all!

**Author's Note:**

> An “everyone’s a wolf” AU. 
> 
> Wolves: Alpha/Beta/Omega is almost the same as in canon but Alphas are basically elected when a group decides to appoint someone Alpha. Only some older families have the ability to become Alpha though due to stronger wolf genetics. Everyone has mates, can scent, can join packs. Everyone in this verse has extra good hearing and smelling, as well as a psychic sense of pack and bonds. No one has super strength, healing powers, or shape-shifting EXCEPT the Alpha! More on Alphas to come ;D
> 
> Mate Bonds: In this universe are a psychic link between two people who have become extremely close, usually romantically but also as platonic life partners, but they aren't permanent and are totally a conscious choice. It's like picking your someone, sometimes you meet a person and just know they are yours, sometimes you have to work for it. It's not predestined and it's not a one time thing, but it is deep and meaningful (hence the breaking of the bond and his claim that there never was a bond to begin with being particularly reprehensible. There are no accidental or unwanted bonds).
> 
> Pack Bonds: Everyone in this verse can bond to an Alpha and a Pack. Usually the bond is one way with the Alpha at the center and the Alpha is the only one who can feel everyone in the pack (so a beta can feel their Alpha but not other betas, and the Alpha can feel everyone). But because of modern life there are usually so many betas in a pack that the psychic link is very weak.  
>  
> 
> Comments feed my writing and I have a dirty little secret.....I only watched like, a few episodes of Teen Wolf. Love the fic tho. 
> 
> Come say hello. I am a lonely person.  
> ambersagen.tumblr.com


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